


Wrong Note

by annoyedraccoon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Depression, Fluff and Angst, M/M, because im a piece of shit, really just dumb high school shit idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 11:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1509608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annoyedraccoon/pseuds/annoyedraccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren's summer before his last year of high school was reaching an end, and that meant band camp. And this year, the marching band was setting sights on 1st place for state. But Eren was going to start with optimism and determination, feeling like nothing would ruin this year for him.<br/>That is, until Jean Kirschtein moved back to town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Please ignore my crappy writing I just started thinking up this AU cause I love marching band and found an intense passion for erejean?? Anyway, hope you enjoy!
> 
> (Name change is for weird reasons I prefer the original name but things must be done srry pretend its still wrong note)

I wasn’t expecting senior year to suck.

It was a blazing summer day, like all the days were. I woke up with late morning sun beaming through the window blinds, my hair sticking to my forehead from sweat. It was annoyingly hot and humid in my room. God, did I hate summer sometimes. I’d done practically nothing all break, save eating, video games, and sleeping.

I turned my head to my alarm clock and realized with utter terror: it was 10:43 am, Monday. Oh, fuck. I was going to be late for the first day of band camp.

I leaped out of bed and sprinted from my room to the hall bathroom, cursing that clock for not being set. And my Mom for that matter; couldn’t she at least wake me up before she goes to work? Did Mikasa or Armin call? _Well, maybe I should stop being an idiot and sleeping in_ , I told myself.

I took what was likely a world record for fastest cold shower. It was 10:47 when I finished. Shit, Shit, Shit. I prayed to all celestial beings I wouldn’t be late; it shouldn’t feel like the end of the world, but the kids above me graduated, so I was new first chair and section leader. I was obligated to help the freshmen understand how to walk in step. Showing up late wouldn’t be a great first impression.

I’d thought about trying out for drum major once, but I figured that wasn’t really my job. And anyway, no one could compete with Mikasa Ackerman for that. She usually took it quite seriously, but that was a good thing since nearly half the band is goofing off most of the time. It’s a school-wide fear for an angry Mikasa to glare at you straight in the eyes (We think maybe you’d turn to stone like Medusa), she was able to keep order. Not to mention she had been the previously best one in the drumline and violinist in the orchestra. She’s the best soprano in the choir, too. She was some kind of stoic goddess roaming the halls, in her own way.

My other friend didn’t try out for it either. Armin Arlert was a petite blondie that I’d been friends with for years. He played the flute because, let’s face it, he was so well suited for it. And hey, he had the best flute posture I’ve ever seen, and plays a damn good cadenza, so no one could really try to put him down for being on a “girly” instrument. And as smart as that pretty boy was, there was no way he could muster up the confidence to stand in front of the entire band like a drum major does.

I threw on an old blink 182 t shirt (praying it was clean) and basketball shorts over my boxers as I stumbled down the stairs. The house was empty and unlit except for the outside light filling the kitchen and living room. I slipped on sneakers and grabbed the rest I’d need: Car keys, iPhone, trumpet, and for lack of a better option, some bread. I tossed the slices in my mouth and swung out the door at exactly 10:50.

Situated in my car, I glanced at my phone and saw Armin and Mikasa both had actually texted me: “Remember band camp starts today!” “You are showing up, right?” “Did you sleep in again?” I rolled my eyes; those two really did treat me like I was their kid. But then I was struck with horror when I caught the last one from Armin:

“Aren’t you picking me up?”

Wait.

Shit.

I rolled down the windows of my hand-me-down truck (An easier way to blow dry your hair,) and peeled out of my shabby driveway, thankful of how empty the streets were in July late-mornings. It was 10:51. The drive to the high school was around 5 minutes. Armin was on the way. I could make it.

I was never really this desperate to show up to school, but Band was actually interesting. Who the hell wanted to sit in a classroom for an hour, “learning” about American history, or a foreign language you don’t even learn, or how, exactly, the velocity of a falling object can help you find the acceleration, momentum, time, and mass of said object? If that’s not the freaking field you’re going into, who the hell cares?

It was lucky I only lived just outside of town. After a few minutes, I stopped passing enormous fields of corn and instead passed houses and stores. I pulled into Maria lane, hoping Armin would be thankful I wasn’t going to just ditch him. These were precious seconds I was losing.

Armin’s housing development was small but nice, the houses littered with cute trees and flowers everywhere. I sped faster than this neighborhood would thank me for and slammed on the breaks in front of Armin’s house.

I honked the horn impatiently, and was about to get out and get the kid when the front door opened. Armin was running up to the street with his flute and water bottle in hand. Dammit. I forgot a water bottle. Nope, there was no way I was going to survive this day.

Armin opened the passenger door and jumped in, his blond hair now a mess over his face from the humid air.

“Seriously?” Armin said as I u-turned back out of the street, an accusatory note in his voice. “You slept in the _first_ day?”

“Oh shut it.” I groaned, wishing I could ignore the tone that sounded suspiciously like a disappointed dad. “I just lost track of time.”

“You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

“Shut it!”

10:53 am. The streets rolled by swiftly as the wind tossed our hair around. To be honest, Armin could probably walk to the school if his parents let him. Poor guy was under a pretty strict household, but his parents were just being protective.

10:57 am. The tires squealed as I swerved into the high school parking lot. Armin was already struggling to put his flute together, murmuring, “I swear, Eren, if you get me in trouble…”

10:58 am. I raced into a parking spot, extremely glad the school was empty save the soccer players, and there weren’t teachers around to see how much I just sped to the other side of campus.

I shoved open the door as I made a grab for the trumpet case that I’d tossed in the back. I’d have to apologize to my instrument later. I ran out with Armin just behind me, and we bolted through the practice field. The band room was in sight.

10:59. Of course, no matter what we did, it wouldn’t stop our director being disappointed. I could hear Erwin scolding us already: _“If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late!”_

We reached the doors and yanked them open, immediately greeted with the air conditioning and sound of teenagers talking and instruments being warmed up. I glanced around the familiar faces and caught Mikasa in front of the room, glaring at us with her arms crossed. She was wearing a brown tank top and pink shorts today, and by the look she gave me, she was fairly disappointed. Figures.

Armin hurried to his seat as I did to mine. Thomas Wagner, the second chair trumpet, stifled a laugh and muttered, “Rough morning, Eren?”

I ignored him as I slid into my seat and had my trumpet together the very moment Erwin stood in front to start the day, holding up his arms for everyone to put up their instruments.

  
11:00.

Well, we technically made it.

\---------

“Nice morning, isn’t it?” Erwin greeted after we did a quick chorale. Erwin Smith, our 8 year band director, had a strange mix of being professional and wanting to seem like a “cool dad”. He even insisted us to use his first name. The other weird thing was even though he dressed in nice polos and slacks all the time, he never sweat, and his combed hair never strayed. It was witchcraft. We believed he’s an incognito Captain America, whose special serum also rid of the need to sweat.

“I hope you all got good nights of sleep and healthy breakfasts,” Erwin continued, looking at me accusingly. “Because you’re going to need the nourishment.”

The band collectively groaned.

“Anyway, you all know our drum major this year, Mikasa.” He gestured to her, and some kids cheered, although no one was really surprised. She was last years, too. “And yes, we will have an assistant director. He’ll be here this week.”

“Who is it?” Mina Carolina asked from the flute section.

“No, we haven’t had him assisting before.” Erwin confirmed before it was asked. “He goes to college in Toledo, majors in music. He played here when he was in high school.” He smiled. “He’s actually Mikasa’s older brother.”

I couldn’t mask my surprise. Mikasa’s brother? I’d never met the guy, even with how many times I’d been to her house. The Ackermans were an odd bunch. I made many conspiracies with Armin that he was a thug or a gang leader or something. The fact he moved to Toledo, which was one of the biggest and most disorderly cities near us, pretty much convinced me. What was he like in band? Here I’d pictured this mysterious man for Mikasa’s brother and he’s nothing more than some band geek.

After a few more announcements about events and first football games, he switched command to Mikasa and we did run-throughs of the most boring chorales and scale practices imaginable. After that, Erwin decided we’d go outside and practice marching form. As much as I loved band, I had to admit the first days of camp were dull. All because the first years can’t do crap.

  
As the transitions outside were made, Armin and Mikasa caught up to me at the door. Preparing for the worst, I pushed open the door and felt the burst of god-forsaken heat on my face. We have to march in this.

“I can’t believe summer’s almost over, already.” Armin sighed, tugging his hair into a short ponytail with his flute under his arm. Mikasa started covering her arms in sunscreen and passed the bottle to Armin.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “And I can’t believe you really can’t wake up before 2 in the afternoon.”

“It was an accident!” I snapped, grabbing the sunscreen from Armin when he finished with it. “I swear, I won’t do it again…”

“Well, you’re not the only one.” Armin reported, pointing at a car pulling up to the band parking lot. It was small and shiny black, looking fairly new and quite expensive. I couldn’t tell who was driving.

“Is that a mustang?” gasped Connie Springer with a dumbfounded expression, pointing at the vehicle with his mellophone. Sasha, one of the other mellophones, caught up to us too and tapped Mikasa’s shoulder.

“Hey, Mikasa, you wouldn’t happen to have a ponytail holder, would you?” She probed hopefully, gesturing to her long chocolatey hair still down and probably very warm on her neck.

“No, I don’t need them.” Mikasa responded with a trace of pity. She did, though, remove her red bandana from her wrist and tie it over her short, choppy black hair. We would probably be holding a funeral for Sasha today. Today was supposed to get close to 100 degrees Fahrenheit, so we were in for literal hell.

Kids set their instruments down around the front of the practice field, waiting for Erwin, making collective curses over the weather. What I would do for a pool. Or air conditioning. Water. Anything, really.

I glanced behind me to see an unfamiliar person going to the band room. I was pretty sure it was whoever just pulled in. Either way, I really wanted his car. Did I know him? I couldn’t help trying to catch who they were for some reason.

I then caught sight of the color guard girls walking out with their instructor, Petra Ral. Christa Reiss, the smallest guard member was walking hand in hand with her girlfriend Ymir, who happened to be the tallest. Personally, Ymir had always terrified me, but apparently not Christa. She even lets Ymir call her by her real name, Historia. She used to be in cheerleading, but she started doing guard instead because she wanted to spend time with Ymir. Most of the school wasn’t happy with the fact they lost their cutest girl to the ‘geeks’.

“So what have you guys thought of the music so far? I think it’s pretty cool.” Armin chimed in, tossing his water bottle in the grass. Leave it to him to start conversation by talking about something that required thought. My head was fried.

“It sounds pretty patriotic to me.” Mikasa said, rolling her toned shoulders. “It kills my arms to direct it.”

I nodded with agreement. We started playing the music the end of last year. Erwin wanted our music to make a bigger statement this year. I admit, the music was really good and inspiring, but it was weird. It wasn’t based off anything I had ever heard before, but all the music made me think Les Miserables meets Hunger Games. It sounded like a patriotic battle for freedom at some points, and others sounded so furious I thought I had to be slaughtering something. It wasn’t really a long show either, which made me wonder how we we were supposed to win state champion this year. We bounced as far as you could from traditional marching style.

Connie was covering his buzz-cut with a whole tube of sunscreen when Erwin exited the band room and instructed the band members to split into our warm up block with our sections. Mikasa led us into stretches on the sideline of our practice field, starting off with damn toe touches.

As Mikasa started counting out the 20 seconds of each side, I saw the stranger walking toward Erwin and talking to him, who pointed toward me. And then that person started approaching me; probably someone new in my section. As if all we needed was another trumpet. My section was always overcrowded.

I started thinking about what I’d have to say to introduce our band's set up, but I tried to keep my spirits high. It was senior year, I was lead trumpet, my best friend was drum major, and we were going to win 1st place, and maybe, just maybe, make incredible fools of our rival school, the Trost Titans. This year would be great.

Mikasa counted to 20, and everyone stood up straight. As I did so, I clearly saw for the first time, the one had just arrived fashionably late. My jaw dropped slightly. I couldn’t stop staring.It couldn't be...but it was. I didn’t have to worry about awkward introductions. As it turned out, I _did_ know him.

And God, was I pissed.

He’d moved away quite a while ago, but he obviously recognized me, too, with the damned smirk on his face. I was surprised I recognized him, honestly. Last I’d seen him, he’d been kind of chubby, with early middle school pimples and glasses. He’d always been an awkward asshole that everyone avoided save a few weirdos (weirdos including Armin). Now, minus the asshole part of course, that was not the case.

Due to his in-bespectacled face, he must have acquired contacts. His thin hazel eyes met mine with a familiar amused twinkle in them. His light skin was practically flawless. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his toned body. His shoulders had broadened. Strong collar bones peeked through his dark green t-shirt, forming into his striking neckline. His jawline, even, had gone sharp and chiseled with age. The only recognizable traits were his dirty blond hair styled in an undercut, and his thin lips curved into a cocky smile, aimed right at me. Yep. Never mind everything I said before. I could consider this year ruined.

Because it was the one person in this world I couldn’t stand.

The horse face.

“Jean?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry everyone I don't even know what writing is I'm trash  
> and literally I feel like this chapter is just angry assholes and bad snk references if you're reading this you are a good supportive person thank

“Well, if it isn’t Eren.” Jean Kirschstein greeted, his cocky smile not faltering when he stopped next to me. Since when was he so much taller than me? Other kids stopped to look, too, probably in awe of how different the bastard looked. Of course, I still thought he was ugly and bronco-looking as always, I didn’t care what it _seemed_ like he looked like. He definitely wasn’t hotter than me. Nope. I swear on my blood, he wasn’t.

“It’s been five years.” I finally answered through gritted teeth. Dammit, I hated having to look up to face him. I never thought I was short before, but now the term was flashing through my head like a dreadful beacon.

“Yeah, just about, huh?” Jean agreed and he looked me up and down disapprovingly. “And you haven’t changed a bit.”

He turned around and looked at Mikasa. I felt disgusted by the warm look he had upon seeing her. He then leaned down and copied her movements in a flawless stretch, like he was already used to the routine. Jerk. I had this unnecessary urge to yell at him, but I wasn’t sure what I was so angry about.

I started stretching again, too, suddenly thinking about whether it’s too late to change instruments. I couldn’t even remember the last time I saw him. He seemed to avoid town a lot. _If he’s avoiding it so much, why the hell is he back?_

“Well, neither have you.” I replied to his comment. “Still a dirty asswipe?”

“Still a shit-nosed dillhole?”

“Horse face.”

“Psycho.”

“Bastard.”

“Dillhole.”

“You already sai—”

“Guys, seriously?” Thomas hissed at us. We looked around and saw everyone had sat down on the grass. We shared a mutual glare and slumped on the ground beside each other reluctantly. I felt the chill of morning dew on my legs. All right. I can yell at Jean all I want later. Right now, I had to focus on practice. Not sure why, but I probably should.

\----------

So, okay. Focusing on practice became pretty hard. We spent a lot of the day doing ‘across-the-fields’, where we set up groups of people who would march across 3 yard lines in rows, using the most perfect marching posture your body could conjure. And then after your group went you had to wait on the other side until the other groups finished. It was only to get people back into the focus of marching and not slouching around or getting sloppy.

It was easy as hell for my age, but all I could hear as I prepared to go was Jean chatting it up with the others like old friends. Everyone was acting like he was some brilliant guy they’d missed for all these years. Sorry, but I don’t recall them whining over missing him a day ago. Hell, some of the people talking to him barely knew him at all, besides seeing him in the rival band. I mean, _I_ knew him better than these people. I wasn’t sure why, but it infuriated me.

“Didn’t you go to Trost?” Connie was asking him somewhere behind me. “What was that like? They’ve been beating us the past few years…”

“It wasn’t so bad,” Jean said, a twinge of defensiveness in his tone. “Really, they aren’t all jerks. Some of the guys there were pretty cool. And that school has such better funds. They had great props, and brought in private teachers sometimes…”

“So are you any less sucky at trumpet?” Sasha snickered.

“Sasha, please take your mellophone off your head.” Jean ordered, and then added smugly while fiddling with his trumpet valves, “And I don’t know, maybe. I was first chair, and those trumpets were way better than yours. I might actually be able to teach you guys a thing or two…”

Okay. He’s saying this just to piss me off. My eye involuntarily twitched with disgust as I straightened my back and put myself in a perfect marching position. I made sure the bell of my trumpet was pointing at the right angle and my shoulders were squared. And finally Erwin counted off with the drum beat and our line marched in unison along the field.

“Eren, are you okay?” Armin asked me when I finished my exercise and met him on the side. I looked down at the parched grass under my feet, feeling thirsty myself.

“Nothing,” I muttered, failing to mask my frustration. “But really, what does that guy know. He’s acting like he’s all hot shit cause he went to a better school.”

“Eren, he might have improved.” Armin pointed out. “They do bring in private instructors there. It would probably be better off if we did that too…”

“Well he’s still stupid.” I grumbled. Armin rolled his eyes, but amusement glittered in them.

“What’s your problem with him anyway?” He asked as the last groups finished the exercise.

I scoffed. “What’s to like?”

Around 2:00, we reverted back indoors to play music rather than kill ourselves outside. The florescent school lights had never been so much of a relief to see, after spending hours in blinding sun that I was pretty sure charred my t-shirt. As we went inside, a few people including Sasha were lying down on the floor, likely basking in the chill of hard tile. Mina poked her with her flute and asked if she was dead.

We sat down in our seats, and Thomas offered Jean the spot next to me. Fucking perfect.

“Eren.” Jean sat down as I frowned in his direction, who despite haughtily accepting the second chair seat, looked disapproving of being next to me. “I have to look off your music. I don’t have a copy yet.”

I wanted with all my being to tell him to get lost, but I didn’t have any control over the matter. I begrudgingly pushed my stand to the middle of us, and he examined the show music intently, his thin lips pursed.

“This looks cool, I guess.” He stated. “What’s its name?”

“’Angriff der Riesen.” I recited, pointing at the top of the music in his hand. “If you would _read_ you could see that in the giant bold letters at the top.”

“I meant in English, smart ass.” He griped. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Well I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I just guessed the show was based off of some German movie or something.”

Jean looked skeptical, but he set the sheets back on the stand, and after wetting his lips, he brought up his trumpet and started playing the first movement. I realized with a heavy and enraged heart that there was a grain of truth in his bragging.

I tried to hide the fact I was listening by busying my hands with my trumpet valves. But damn, he actually _did_ improve. The notes were played clearly and accurately. Although the music itself wasn’t exactly easy, he was sight-reading it with minimal errors. Besides myself, I’d have to say it was some of the best trumpet sound I’d ever heard from a high schooler’s lips. The tone quality was beautiful, even next to my own. It suddenly dawned on me that he could easily compete with me. Fuckity fuck fuck.

The rest of practice came out as a blur of playing for long periods of time and short breaks. Eventually the trumpets had a short sectional in a practice room to go over an awkward melody part, but we didn’t really accomplish anything. It was mostly me trying to work while sophomores snickered about dirty jokes and bad puns, while I had absolutely no assistance in controlling them from Thomas or Jean. It didn’t help that when I tuned the underclassmen and told them whether to ‘push in’ the tuning slide or ‘pull out’, Jean muttered, “that’s what _she_ said.”

When it was finally 4:00, the first day was over. When dismissed, everyone rushed from their chairs to the instrument cubbies and doors, hoping to taste what little they had left of summer. I pulled my case up from under my seat and promptly placed my trumpet in its cushioned slots, and I noticed the bell needed to be cleaned. I turned and looked at Jean who’d pulled out a cloth and wiped down his own brass instrument with focus, biting his lip.

“Do you clean it off like that _daily_?” I asked, only a hint of mockery coloring my voice. He looked up and frowned.

“What, is that bad?” He grumbled, but he put away the instrument after that. There was a tint of pink on his cheeks. “I guess being hygienic isn’t a big deal for you, eh? When did you last wash that shirt?”

“It’s clean!” I spat, slamming my case shut. He laughed and got up from his seat.

“Right. See you tomorrow, Jaeger. Was real treat seeing you again.” He made a mock salute motion before chirpily turning his back.

Ugh. What a prick.

After a short and grumpy stride across the room I slumped down next to Armin, who was still cleaning out his flute with care. Mikasa was talking to Erwin in his office.

“Can’t believe that guy is back.” I whined pretty pathetically. Armin glanced up to give me a condescending look.

“He’s not that bad, once you get to know him.” He stated quite matter-of-factly, closing his flute case.

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Armin stood up and smiled. “Well I don’t know, did you see him? He’s quite the stud anymore.”

“Excuse me?” I squeaked. “What exactly are you playing at?”

“Nothing, nothing.” He put up his hands in surrender, but a playful grin was still on his face. We started walking towards the exit with the other students and Armin added, “But really, he can be pretty cool. Sometimes.”

I rolled my eyes and trudged over to the cubby room. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be practicing tonight. I wasn’t in the best of moods.

When I came back out to the main band room, Mikasa was walking back out to Armin. Perfect, she hadn’t left yet.

“Hey Mikasa, what’re you doing tonight?” I asked, catching up to them by the door.

She tugged the red bandana loose from her hair and shook the dark locks over her face. I always thought Mikasa’s actions and skill conflicted to her demeanor. She was this amazing instrumentalist and singer, as well as one of the top students in grades, but she didn’t accept any popularity for it. She always hid her gorgeous face, and tried to fade into the background. She didn’t seem to want to be important to others. She turned down invites to parties and dates all the time. I didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want attention, but she seemed perfectly content with just Armin and me as close friends. Ya know, if you didn’t count the ‘ _please-notice-me_ ’s following her around.

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “Just walking home I guess.”

“Wanna come over today, then? We can probably do something.” I shrugged, trying not to look too hopeful toward her answer.

She considered it briefly. “I don’t know, Eren. I haven’t practiced violin in a while…”

“Aw, come on, you act like a stranger anymore!” Armin sulked. He’d missed hanging out with Mikasa just as much as I did.

“Seriously.” I agreed with a pout in my lips. “You were at that leadership thing most of June and any other time, you’re “practicing” or “working”…”

“Well some people actually want to improve sometimes.” She rebuked, but after both of us laced our hands together and went for a sad kitten look, she threw up her hands in surrender.

“Fine. I guess since I don’t have work or anything…But I swear Eren, you’d better have food. I’m starving.”

We pushed open the door together and my eyes adjusted to the lighting. Outside was basked in warm afternoon light and yellow tints fell upon the school buildings. It was less quiet than it had been earlier this morning. The girls cross country team were sprinting 400s around the track on the field. Football players were doing their weird tackling stuff. Out on another practice field soccer players were having a scrimmage.

As I squinted out toward the parking lot, I saw Jean just as he got in his nice car. I remembered his family was richer, so that explained the niceness of it. I wondered why he rushed out so fast. I doubted he had anywhere to be.

“Nothing ever changes around here, does it?” Armin thought out loud. Mikasa and I raised our eyebrows, but agreed silently. That was the thing about smaller towns. Everything was constant. Same people. Same schedule. Same places to eat, same places to go. I felt like the only wavering factor in my life was Jean, which was sad to say since he didn’t matter much at all. Made for a pretty uninteresting life. I hoped I’d get out of that town one day. I was sick of constants.

 

I couldn’t promise the poor Asian that I actually did have food, so I stopped at a drug store and spent some cash on food for Mikasa. She was the type of person who’d run a health blog if she could, so she was a little upset when I walked out with chips and soda. I claimed it was the least expensive thing that wasn’t pure sugar. But I managed to make her give in to the salty deliciousness, although she ate them with mutters of my being a bad influence.

And we didn’t actually do anything either. We went back to my house, took out the Nintendo Wii, and played super smash bros. brawl. I wasn’t that great at the game, so I just played as Pikachu and used thunder half the time and ran away the other half. Mikasa still kept beating me as Link from legend of Zelda, though. She and I talked about classes and her summer program, while Armin gave the game his utmost attention.

“Have you guys thought much about college?” I asked as I sent Armin’s Jigglypuff flying off the screen. He cursed, at least if you counted _darn you_ as a curse.

“Well, I put in a lot of applications if that counts.” Armin rolled his shoulders tiredly as his player came back to life. “The scholarship stuff is ridiculous.”

“Armin, you shouldn’t even have to do that crap,” I sighed, watching helplessly as Mikasa’s Link defeated my Pikachu mercilessly. “You’re the top student in our freaking class.”  
Mikasa nodded and said, “I was thinking about going to Ohio State, but I’m not sure about their school of music.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad.” I argued. “But I want to get the hell out of this state if I can pay for it.”

“Take me with you.” Mikasa muttered in agreement.

Armin made a whining noise as his Jigglypuff gave a sorrowful cry. Jigglypuff flew into the game’s horizon with a twinkle and the narrator’s voice boomed, “ _PLAYER THREE: DEFEATED_.”

“Why does college cost so much?” Armin tossed aside the controller and crossed his arms, obviously upset for more reasons than the college tuition. He surprisingly took super smash brothers pretty seriously.

“You’ve got me.” Mikasa groaned. “That’s why you’d better not let your grades drop, Eren.”

“Hey, when did this get about me?”

“Eren, you always get distracted in October.” Armin laughed, popping open a coke can. “You get a bit passionate about band.”

My lip twitched in annoyance. “Well it would be nice if we won for once, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Armin agreed hesitantly. “I’ll admit I want to beat the titans.”

“Oh I want to destroy the titans.” I snarled. “Every last one of ‘em. I want them to cry about it. Talking about how ‘crappy our school is’, ‘bad funding’, ugh. That scum of the earth.”

Mikasa raised an eyebrow but her eyes didn’t leave the TV screen. “What’s got you all worked up? I didn’t realize our rivalry with Trost was so personal.”

Armin rolled his eyes. “He’s just mad about his boyfriend.”

“JEAN IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND.”

He shrugged with an innocent grin. “I never said who. You came up with that.”

Mikasa smiled, glancing at me for a brief moment. “Eren, you said yourself the trumpets are pretty weak save you. It’d be good to have another strong player.”

“Not him though.” I complained, finally sending Mikasa’s character off the screen. Sadly for me, she still had twice as many lives as me. “Really, if Trost was so great, why’d he come back? He was good riddance.”

“He told me it was because his mom wanted to.” Armin explained as he sipped a Coke. “She thought Shiganshina was a quieter place to be and more comfortable. I think she likes that Jean grew up here, too.”

“Wait, why does she need somewhere quiet all of the sudden?” I asked, violently pressing the remote controller’s buttons as the Link character barreled toward me.

Armin gave me a stunned look. “You never heard? His mom’s sick. Like, really sick. Jean never told me what it was.”

I felt bad for sounding cynical a second ago but I added in my defense, “Well how was I supposed to know that? It’s not like horse face talks to anyone.”

“Talks to me,” Armin pointed out.

“Well you’re weird.”

Mikasa looked offended. “Well... _I_ talked to him on facebook, too, you know.”

“Well whatever. He doesn’t talk to me.” I mumbled. “And wait. You never liked him; why would you talk to him anyway?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Well, I felt kind of bad. He probably needs people to talk to sometimes. He’s been through a lot.”

“Well, yeah, his mom being sick sucks, but it’s not like...” I felt both of them, even Mikasa, staring at me. “...What?”

“Did you...forget?” Armin asked, his blue eyes wide with shock.

“Forget what?”

“Why he moved, Eren?” Mikasa probed, looking back at the screen. “How could you forget that?”

“What?” I urged. “Why did he...”

I felt like something hit my head with a bowling ball as the reason came to me. I accidently ran my character off the platform because I was no longer looking at the screen. I felt horribly ashamed, for multiple reasons. I hadn’t cut Jean any slack, and the accident from years ago completely slipped my mind. How did I possibly forget something so serious? Did I completely bury the memory? I knew I could be a jerk, and gladly to Jean, but...Forgetting him? that was just disrespectful. I felt so guilty. How could I have forgotten?

“Eren...” Armin continued in a lower voice, to answer the question I already knew the answer to.

“It was after the accident...When Marco Bodt died.”

\----------

When it got around 8:30, I took Armin and Mikasa home, since Armin’s parents weren’t too fond of him staying out long. I promised Mikasa we would actually do something next time we got to hang out, but I think somewhere inside of her passive being, she liked just goofing off every once in a while.

I pulled back into my driveway, and I noticed both of my parents hadn’t come home yet. My mom worked at a diner, and usually closed up, so I’d expect her not to be home. My Dad probably had extra work or something at the doctor’s office. I was pretty used to having the house to myself all the time, but I wasn’t in the mood to play video games or sleep right now.

So instead, I got out of my car and started taking a walk. The heat wasn’t as god awful now that the sun was setting. Twilight always looked pretty to me. As the sun dipped lower into the horizon, it cast a golden hue on the grass and sky, making the world look as if I was seeing it through a honey comb lens. I reached into my pocket and plugged some ear buds into my iPhone, drowning out my surroundings with music in my ears.

My legs ended up taking me to the reservoir a ways from my house. The water sparkled with orange sunlight, a soft breeze making small waves. There were oddly not many people walking along the reservoir today, so I got to have the sight mostly to myself. It was peaceful, and helped clear my mind. Usually these walks tended to cheer me up.  
Still, I didn’t find myself feeling cheery. I wasn’t sure why, but the thought of Jean coming back after what happened to Marco was still fresh on my mind and left me in a melancholic state.

I was shaky on most of the details. But I knew Marco Bodt, at least a little. His loss was the only one I’d ever had. He was a great guy; talented at saxophone, handsome, good grades, loved by all who saw him and his rosy freckled cheeks. He was kind, honest, and smiled at everyone, even people he wasn’t so fond of. No one really understood why, but his best and closest friend was Jean Kirschstein. It was a weird pair, but they were two peas in a freaking pod. They grew up together, knew each other top to bottom. One didn’t go somewhere without the other.

Except once. Differences were sure to come with age, of course. Marco was pretty popular, and he went to a party he was invited to about half way into 6th grade. Jean was not very popular and didn’t go. And he was upset. Jean was mad because Marco “didn’t even _tell him_ ”. Perhaps with good intentions of course. He must have thought Jean would be hurt that he couldn’t go. Just a silly argument, really, but one that at the moment of it, feels bad. Jean probably felt hurt and betrayed. Probably said hurtful things. Maybe Marco did, too.

But it wasn’t like they never fought before. People outside the drama would see it as petty and trivial. Something that would come to pass. In the end, they would’ve gotten over it in a day or two. They’d go to school Monday. Jean would feel guilty after seeing Marco upset and apologize. Marco would too, and they would smile and hug it out like men. And the whole essence of school life would be back to normal. And Marco and Jean would be the inseparable duo again that once again, no one understood.

But the roads were icy that day.

Marco never came back to school.

He was the only casualty, as if for some horrible reason he was simply meant to go. Everything about school changed the day Marco’s car accident happened. The boy who cheered up everyone who saw him was gone. We didn’t have someone to call “freckled jesus” anymore. Jean didn’t have someone to call “friend”.

I faintly remember Jean after that point. He was newly reserved. Rarely even glanced my way. Most kids left him to be nonexistent. Either because no one knew what to say, or there was nothing they wanted to say. I remembered watching the popular and older kids push him sometimes, now without Marco to protect him.

But Jean didn’t fight it like he used to. He just let people push him around. At least I had the decency not to start shit with someone in his situation. In fact, I felt bad for him. Really bad. I couldn’t imagine having to lose someone like Armin or Mikasa. I wished I understood how he felt, at least a little. His whole character changed. I remembered hearing from people later that “he didn’t even show up to Marco’s funeral.”

I always wondered if it was permanent damage on Jean. I thought I’d never know, after he moved away. The few moments he did speak to me, he masked anything he may have been feeling. Behind his glasses his almond eyes seemed vacant of anything. And I wasn’t counting on seeing him again.

I also wasn’t counting on him literally running into me a second after that very thought.

“What the hell—?” I yelped, falling on my rear in the grass. The impact forced me back into reality. I tugged out my ear buds and snapped my head up to see Jean standing above me, looking just as shocked and annoyed as me. He took out his own ear buds.

“Eren?”

“What the hell do you want?” I asked, irritated.

“Excuse me, but you don’t own the reservoir, you know. Other people are allowed to walk here.”

“Yeah. Walk. Not crash into people, idiot.” I retorted.

“Whatever,” He sighed, wiping his forehead. His usually pale hair was shining bronze in the evening light. “Why don’t you start actually watching where you’re going instead of staring at the ground like some depressed shut-in?”

“I could say the same for you, apparently.” I grumbled. He exhaled in exasperation but surprisingly offered a hand. He was wearing a different t-shirt and shorts than he had during band camp, and then I realized he was pretty out of breath, and his skin was glistening in the dim sunrays, like he’d been exercising.

“Wait, you jog now?” I sneered. “That desperate to lose your weight, eh?”

He threw his hand back up, looking more hurt than I would’ve expected. “Well, that was uncalled for.”

I stood up on my own and wiped the grass off my pants. “Running into me was uncalled for.”

“Ugh.” He groaned. “Sorry. If that’s what you need to hear.” He lingered for a moment and finally said, “Later.”

He was about to start jogging again and I shouted, “Hey, wait!”

Jean stopped and turned, confusion plain on his face. Shit, what had I wanted to say? I’d been sitting here, contemplating his past and all...Feeling guilty I’d completely forgotten what he’d left for. But what could I possibly tell him?

He put a hand on his waist impatiently. “What is it, Eren?”

“I..um...” I stammered, hating how nervous he was making me. Why the hell did I feel nervous? I yell at him all the time. Asshole.

He raised an eyebrow expectantly and I sighed. “About that...accident. Back in middle school.”

A few different emotions seemed to go through Jean at once and he pulled his gaze away from me before I could read them.

“What about it.”

“I’m...” God I was stupid. Why was I doing this. “I’m sorry it happened...the accident, I mean.”

He stared back at me, his hazel eyes unreadable. He bit his lip and murmured, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Why do you have to know?” I spat. “Maybe I was a dick and never said it before!” I felt so awkward. At least it was easier to say things when I was yelling. “I should’ve...maybe talked to you...or something...Just sorry.”

Jean opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again as he just watched at me in an uncomfortable silence. He was probably trying to figure out how these words were actually insulting him. I wasn’t sure what came over me. I just hoped that telling him this would stop me feeling bad. Because it wasn’t like I’d known Jean or Marco extremely well, as miserable as his passing was. And I’ve had five years to get over it, even Jean should be over it now.

Finally, Jean shook his head and gave me a weak smirk. “Dude, don’t get all weird and sappy. It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize or anything.”

It wasn’t fine, dumbass. I knew I’d caught utter grief in his eyes as I brought up the topic. Yeah, he should be over it, but was he? He must have caught on to my skepticism toward his answer, because his gaze hardened on me and he stepped closer.

“Jaeger, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a knot, but it’s fine, really. Just drop it.”

“But Are _you_? Are you fine?” I pressed, glaring back at him. He raised his eyebrows in sincere shock at the comment. His eyes looked gold in the sunset. I didn’t even get why I was asking, but I didn’t regret it. Because for some reason I doubted he was as fine as he was acting. Something about his demeanor seemed fake. Not like the one before the accident.

Jean had that surprised look for only seconds, and he masked the expression with his regular jerk face, his lips curved in a cocky smile. He crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly.

“I’m flattered. You really _do_ care.” He teased.

“Oh go fuck yourself.” I sighed in disgust, trudging by him. Jean started walking behind me.

“Oh, by the way,” He started his jog again and ruffled my hair as he passed me like I was a little kid.

“I love how _tall_ you've gotten!” He called back. I flipped him off, but he didn’t turn toward me again. I walked back home immediately after that, still feeling upset and unsatisfied. I had a late dinner with my mom and when she asked what was wrong, I didn’t really have an answer.

God, he was an ass. I shouldn’t even concern myself with him.

Why was he making me feel so horrible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you couldn't tell, Eren has intense as hell denial about thinking Jean is a hot piece of ass (⊙‿⊙✿)  
> and sorry about Marco. I'm a piece of shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curious kids finally get to meet their new instructor, and Mikasa's brother!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to stop randomly updating at 11 at night..
> 
> I wasn't that close to finishing this update, but then the erejean spamming on tumblr got me inspired.  
> ALSO, I split this chapter between POVs, mostly since the chapter felt too short, and I wanted to add some more details on Jean. Soooo, here y'all go :D

I trudged into the band room, with Mikasa and Armin beside me.

“But what is he like, Mikasa?” I was demanding. Armin and I were once again pestering her about her brother, who was supposed to be present today. With all the times Armin and I had been at her house, we never saw him. And more recently she still didn’t say much, despite the fact we would definitely be meeting him either way. Mikasa seemed slightly humiliated if anything.

She shrugged indifferently. “I told you, he’s just...him. I don’t know him that well.”

“But you’re siblings!” Armin whined. He had been just as impatient as I was about finally meeting her brother. It didn’t help that Armin got really jumpy when he didn’t know something, too.

“Half-siblings.” Corrected Mikasa as she walked to the front of the room and we followed her like dogs. “And he wasn’t even around much after I was ten anyway. That was when he graduated.”

“Who was?” A new voice joined in. I turned and saw Jean completely barging in on our conversation. His hair looked damp today, like he’d more recently taken a shower. He was wearing some ‘Fall out Boy’ t-shirt. I tried to keep my signs of displeasure at a minimum as he greeted mostly Mikasa and Armin.

“The new assistant instructor.” Armin gladly explained. It slipped my mind a lot that Armin hadn’t minded Jean as much as I did. “I wouldn’t care so much, but he’s Mikasa’s brother.”

“Half.” Mikasa corrected again, looking more upset. Jean smiled at her.

“Are you embarrassed by him?” He asked her. “Is he bad or something?”

“He’s majoring in music.” I told Jean. “There’s no way he’s musically inept.”

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Well sorry mister know-it-all. I happened to have been asking Mikasa a question.”

When I glowered back at him, I thought of a week ago at the reservoir, when I’d tried to talk to him about Marco. He’d mostly avoided speaking about it, as if there wasn’t any problems now. I still doubted it. I couldn’t help feeling like he was hiding something, seeing as how quick he was to drop the subject, and the way his obnoxious teasing doubled like a defense mechanism.

For some weird reason I seemed to think the way he acted would change. But he didn’t act any differently now, save being a little more unbearable. As much as I tried to avoid it, we kept butting heads as always. Once an ass always an ass I guessed.

We were starting to get in our seats for the beginning of the day when the outside door opened and an unfamiliar man stepped in. Everyone seemed to be able to sense the new presence, because the room got quieter. Kids turned heads to see him with surprised expressions. A few people whispered. And I understood why.

“He’s fucking short.” Jean muttered to me as he sat down with his trumpet, saying the exact words that went through my own head. I reluctantly had to nod in agreement. I knew the guy was somewhere around 25, but he looked like an angry 13 year old.

“You’d think someone related to Mikasa would look just as intimidating.” I mumbled back. Jean smiled like he was suppressing a laugh.

“Scared of Mikasa?” He questioned me playfully.

“And you aren’t?” I retorted. Jean shrugged guiltily, letting me win that argument.

Mikasa’s brother walked straight to Erwin and they talked for a bit like old friends, although he didn’t look happy. Then Erwin stepped up to the podium to introduce. The new guy stayed back and crossed his arms, leaning against the whiteboard. I remembered that Shiganshina hadn’t won state since he left the high school seven years ago. Maybe this would cancel out the bad luck that came with Jean’s return. Hopefully.

He seemed like a dark and brooding character. Therefore, not much different than Mikasa. He looked like her too, with dark and slick hair, shaded eyes and a frown that said “I hate everyone in this room”. I guessed he _could_ still look pretty threatening, but I couldn’t get over how young he looked.

I expected him to be like most of the other young assistants: awkward college kids who needed some experience. I highly doubted he’d be too strict of an instructor by the looks of it.

I’d discover later I wasn’t all that correct.

“This is Levi Ackerman,” Erwin announced. “He’ll start assisting with our practices.”

He went on to explain that Levi was a trumpet and violinist, as well as a voice performer in college. I understood that Levi was probably doing this for a class in college or something, but I had to admit, he really didn’t look like he wanted to be there. I wondered what it was he’d rather be doing.

We went outside to start practice in the same routine we always did it. Luckily, we had to do the regular exercises for only a little while since the underclassmen were getting the hang of it by now. Mikasa and her brother spoke for a little bit during a water break, but not like you’d expect siblings to talk. It seemed stifled and professional. Mikasa mentioned before that Levi taught her a lot of what she knew about singing and violin. Maybe ‘professional’ was the relationship they had.

During a break I sat down by Armin and Mikasa joined us. I looked across the yard and watched Jean leaning against the fence of the tennis courts. He was engaged in conversation with Sasha and Connie again. Probably talking more shit. He used his hands a lot as he talked, like he was telling a big important story. But then his head turned slightly and his eyes met mine with a confused look, so I rapidly spun my face away feeling oddly sheepish.

“So...” I started to Mikasa while I lifted my water bottle from the dried grass. You could barely say the grass was green anymore; it was pretty much just dead brown. I couldn’t remember the last time we had rain. “That’s your brother, huh?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal.”

“Come on, he’s got to be hiding something.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot to mention he’s a wanted axe murderer out west.” Mikasa joked while she nudged my shoulder. “No, he’s not, doofus. He’s just Levi.”

I grunted a disbelieving response as Erwin told us to split between brass and woodwind instruments for section work outside. I hardly believed I needed to practice the introduction one more damn time, but apparently it still needed more effort from everyone else.

So I lined up in lead of the trumpets, Jean and Sasha flanking me. As I stood in a parade rest position with my trumpet at my side and left arm behind my back, I saw that Levi would be conducting us, while Erwin worked with woodwinds and Mikasa helped the percussion. Sasha murmured something about being hungry, but I tried to ignore her.

Levi stood in front of the brass semi circle and stated in a monotone voice similar to Mikasa’s, “In hopes you memorized the beginning with all your shabby attempts at it, let’s start right after the solo introduction.”

Okay, so he didn’t sound too optimistic. He raised his arms and everyone brought the instruments to playing positions. After a brief pause he swayed his arms and everyone began playing in unison. It wasn’t flawless, but the music improved a lot since we’d started. I had to move my fingers pretty rapidly for the melody, and my breaths staggered with the desperation to directly hit each note, but I thought I’d sounded all right. Still, we only made it about two phrases before Levi cut us off.

“First off, Tubas came in late from the start.” He identified, crossing his arms as he looked to each brass section. “Baritone and Trombone, your counter melody was executed poorly. First trumpets, there were missed notes on the high part—”

“It was you.” Jean and I accused at the same time. We scowled at each other.

“No, I played fine.” I denied in a hushed voice, trying to end the argument.

“That’s ‘cause your head’s up your ass and you can’t hear.” Jean alleged coldly. “Don’t play the wrong note next time.”

“But I didn’t.” I insisted again, getting increasingly aggravated. He didn’t know when to shut up.

“Well, I didn’t either, you fucking tool.”

“Liar.”

“I’m sorry?” Levi said suddenly and made the two of us realize everyone was watching us, and Levi had stopped. “Am I interrupting something?”

Shit.

Levi stepped up to us uncomfortably close. He was much shorter than me and definitely shorter than Jean, but I could easily say both of us were wholly terrified meeting his malicious glare. Yeah, he was related to Mikasa. No doubt about it.

“Uh, no.” I said with my head down. “Sorry.”

“Really, now?” Levi said with mock surprise. “Because it seems you and your boyfriend here were having a very important debate. Do continue.”

My face was probably redder than a tomato at this point. I felt like I was being scolded by a middle schooler. A smart, scary, _very_ scary middle schooler. Some of the other students were giggling at us now.

“No, it’s nothing.” Jean squeaked, looking like he wanted to sink into the dirt and kill me simultaneously.

“Nothing?” Levi urged. “Nothing about being ‘a fucking tool?’” He said the insult with air quotation marks.

Jean looked even redder in the face than before, and finally Levi sighed.

“Run five laps around the field, and don’t speak while I am again.”

“W-what?” I staggered. “But that’s over a mile!”

“Don’t question me, kid. I’m your residing authority.” Levi directed. Amusement seemed to gleam in his narrowed eyes as he added, “and I also happen to know about your little _accident_ with my sister when you were seven, if I need more leverage.”

My face flushed with embarrassment at the childhood event I’d buried. I stood gaping at Levi in horror until Jean pulled me away toward the sidelines muttering, “Come on, idiot.”

  
The brass started playing again without us, while Jean and I set our instruments in the grass and started jogging along the outsides. It wasn’t like I wasn’t already horribly tired and thirsty. My legs were wobbly. The last time I ran was...well, practically never.

“So,” Jean leaned close to me with an impish smile after a few paces of silence. “What happened when you were sev—”

“You shut your horse mouth right now, Kirschstein.”

He laughed and picked up his pace so he was ahead of me. Oh hell no, he wasn’t going to beat me or something. If he wanted a race he would fucking get one. I forced my steps to pull forward so I was in step with him. He turned to me with raised eyebrows, but didn’t say anything. I took in a breath and pushed past him after one lap. I was able to keep a distance between us as we turned to make our second lap. I wondered why people didn’t run that much. This was pretty easy.

Unfortunately, I would eat those words. I couldn’t make it much faster after that. In fact, the throbbing pinch in my lungs began to slow me down. Jean passed me with a perfect stride and his eyes twinkling with hilarity.

“Can you do any better than that, Jaeger?” He called back with a grin on his face. Fuck. I totally forgot he’d been jogging the other day. A mile was probably nothing to him. And I was scrawny and not at all in running shape.

That wouldn’t stop me from beating him.

Sapping my strength and energy, I kicked up my speed and caught back up with Jean by our fourth lap. He was smiling still and wasn’t struggling too much for breath, but I could see he was still breaking a sweat from the terrible heat. I tried to hide how horrible I felt and the fact I’d lost my ability to breathe.

“Try breathing through your nose more often.” Jean gave me a pointer in a snarky manner. It caught my wandering eye that he was wearing a necklace with a dark leather cord, but whatever pendant he had on it was tucked under his shirt.

“Shut up.” I rasped in return, straining to pump my arms faster. I tried to distract myself by watching the band and color guard practicing in the field, but it didn’t help that a lot of them were pointing and watching us run. I caught sight of Armin with the woodwinds, who was biting back a laugh.

On the fifth lap Jean suddenly heaved up his speed and almost left me in the dust. But I didn’t give two craps about how much pain I was in. _The taste of beating him will be better_ , I told myself. Or at least being near him. I broke into a sprint, the pendulum of my legs feeling awkward at first. However, I gained strength back as I neared Jean again. The determination I had left me feeling exhilarated as well as worn out.

My surroundings got hazy as I felt the sting of my eyes watering, and I was too aware of the salty smell and touch of sweat on my face. I sprinted around the turn and Jean’s pace sped up even more. I pushed harder so I was by his side again, and I dimly saw he was smiling despite how close I was to beating him. Nonetheless, we crossed over the last turn, and I’d finished my punishment run just behind him.

My vision blurred as I slowed to a stop and went down on my hands and knees, gasping for air. Jean stayed on his feet and leaned his own hands on his knees wearily. I was faintly conscious of some overstated cheering from band members. Shit, I was thirsty. “ _Out of practice competitive running on a hot day_ ” probably wasn’t the best idea I’ve had. But it wasn’t my fault; Jean egged it on, not me.

“Here.” I heard Jean’s voice above, and my water bottle dropped in front of me. My first thought was whether he poisoned it, but I decided not to care and started drinking it, the cool liquid never tasting better before.

“Eren, stand up.” Jean advised sincerely. “You’ll cramp up like hell if you do that.”

I glared up at him, and watched him extend a hand out to me. He was still breathing hard, but saved an amused expression that appeared weirdly charismatic.

It reminded me of our talk by the reservoir again, where I’d made fun of him instead of using his help. But, seeing as how I doubted I would be able to get up otherwise, I grasped his hand. A tingle went through my skin as he hauled me up on my feet effortlessly and I mumbled a feeble thanks. Honestly I was surprised he didn’t act like an ass and shove me back down or something.

“Why the heck are you so good at running?” I questioned him. He picked up his trumpet and dusted it off.

“I’m not.” He countered. “You’re just really bad.”

“Excuse me, I was right behind you.”

He snickered at me. “But I wasn’t even trying. You’re the one that killed himself to do it.”

Turning toward the practice field, it looked like the marchers were stopping for a water break. Along with the students, Levi was watching Jean and me with an irritated and slightly confused look.

“You know, that was supposed to be a punishment, not a race.” He warned, but luckily he didn’t seem to care enough to discipline us further. And thank the heavens above for that, because I doubted I could run another 3 feet.

For some reason I started laughing about it when Levi turned, and Jean did too. But just as quickly, Jean abruptly stifled it and frowned, turning away from me to join Sasha and Connie again. Man, what was his problem?

After shooting him a confused glare, I found Armin sitting in the grass, who smiled up at me.

“Have a nice run?” He asked playfully. “What was that even about?”

“Oh, can it, Armin.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Levi was punishing us for arguing.”

“About time someone did that.” Armin giggled. I heatedly squirted my water bottle at him, making him squeal in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Armin defended, shielding his newly wet face with his arms. “You deserved it; you fight all the time!”

“Well he’s the ass who starts it,” I grumbled, looking at said ass from across the sideline. “I’m just defending myself.”

The rest of the day ended up like any other day, minus the new short guy kicking our asses. I was surprised how hard he already was his first day helping, and even more so terrified of how he’ll be later on. How did Mikasa _live_ with someone like that?

Practice ended, and I watched Jean hurry out again like he usually did. I didn’t get what his deal was. We always fought, that was a given, but now it was just ridiculous, and he barely let me speak a word before getting touchy and verbally abusive. Frankly, I thought he’d grow up a bit after five years. Maybe I was wrong. Or maybe something was wrong.

While I put away my trumpet at my seat I heard Erwin calling for me from his office. Oh great, now a lecture, and Jean already ran off. I was going to freaking strangle him. I finished putting away my trumpet with the feeling of impending doom and strode over to Erwin's office.

Erwin didn't have many family pictures. In fact, I wasn't sure if he was married. He was good looking, and seemed like the type to have children, but I didn't see a photo or anything. Maybe he just never settled down. Instead, he had pictures of our band and passed band groups, and even some pictures from college. One photo in particular had him with his arm around a girl with glasses that we knew as our choir teacher, Mrs. Hanji.

Erwin turned to me from his desk, looking amused.

"Levi told me you were arguing pretty loudly with Jean today."

I nodded solemnly. He crossed his arms. "Is there a problem you guys need to talk about?"

"Uh, no." I said. I had to stop from reminding him he was a band director, not a therapist.

"You sure?" Erwin asked, as I was realizing he was more concerned than angry. "You can tell me, if there is. Treat me like, you know, one of the guys."

I bit back a laugh and said, "No, there's no problem, we won't be fighting like that more."

Erwin smiled. "I'd believe that when I see it. All right, get going then."

I told him bye and went back in the band room to retrieve my trumpet. When I grabbed it I saw something shiny in the corner of my eye. Down on the floor, a key was left with a snapped leather cord, right under Jean’s chair. Curiously, I picked it up.

It wasn’t decorative; just a normal house key, although it gleamed more of a brass shine than most did. I was suddenly sure it must have been Jean’s, because I remembered seeing the same cord around his neck, yet I hadn’t known he was wearing a house key. The damned idiot was in such a stupid rush he dropped his stupid necklace.

I shoved it in my pocket. It’d probably get lost or thrown away if I left it there. I could just give it back to him tomorrow, or today even, if I happened to see him. Although the idea of giving extra time to speak to him made my stomach churn.

\----------------

“You know, Jean, I didn’t drive thirty minutes out here to listen to you complaining about your boyfriend.”

“Christ Reiner, when will you stop calling that bastard that?” Jean snapped, throwing his legs on the wicker coffee table. He was sitting out on the front porch with one of his friends from Trost, Reiner Braun, who had decided to come and visit after his band practice.

Reiner used to be on the football team, but “oddly decided” to join marching band sophomore year with his friend Bertholdt. Bertholdt would’ve have come out to see Jean too, but apparently he had work that night. Their other friend Annie however, said she “doesn’t feel like getting up”. At this point Jean wondered if she even considered him a friend. She was pretty stand-offish and hard to figure out. That was saying something after knowing Mikasa Ackerman.

Reiner stretched his legs across the wicker couch beside Jean, taking in a breath of summer air, smelling of sunscreen and freshly cut lawns. The two tried to talk about band and music, but that easily came to the topic of Jean’s new section leader and old arch nemesis. Jean was enjoying spending time with everyone else, but that guy grinded his gears to no end.

Reiner sighed. “I’ll stop calling him your ‘bae’ when you stop treating him like it. C’mon, you talk about him on a daily basis. You’re almost gayer than me.”

“I’m not gay.” Jean denied quickly, earning a condescending look from Reiner. He knew he wasn’t though. If he liked anyone, it was that goddess Mikasa. She was beautiful and talented, more so than anyone Jean knew, even himself.

“Oh really.” Reiner smiled smugly. “Coming from the guy who was freaking out for _days_ because he’d be going to school with him again?”

Jean crossed his arms with a pout. “That’s not true. I was just disgusted that I’d have to deal with him for another year.”

And he was, too. Jean wasn’t sure if he could deal with seeing his damned olive skin and big Caribbean green eyes one more time, or his stupid feathery chocolate-colored hair. Jean wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but every time Eren Jaeger was within arm’s reach of him, he’d feel sick and angry. He loathed the fact that even after all that time at a better school, that asshole was still a better trumpet player.

Although, Jean could still revel in the look of complete shock Eren had the moment he saw him for the first time since middle school. There was something about impressing even Jaeger bombastic that left him feeling satisfied.

“Seriously though, Jean.” Reiner sighed in exasperation, rolling his shoulders. “I have to hear you complaining all the time, and Bertholdt sweating over Annie... when do _I_ get to whine, huh?”

Jean shook his head and told him, “Hey, if you need to talk, I’m all ears.” But Reiner waved his hand dismissively.

“Well, see, I know that you don’t want to hear about my boy problems.”

Jean shrugged indifferently and looked away, neither denying nor confirming his accusation. Frankly, Jean thought Reiner just needed to move on and find another guy. He had been in love with his best friend for years, but unfortunately, Bertholdt Fubar was in love with a short blonde girl that was definitely not Reiner. The biggest problem was the fact that Reiner was not a woman. It was just a relationship that couldn’t be.

There were a few moments of silence. Jean listened to the echoes of cicadas in the fields behind his house. The neighbors were having a cook out; sounds of laughter and scents of hamburgers fanned toward them.

“Well, I think I’d better head back home.” Reiner exhaled, standing up and stretching his limbs. “I doubt my ma would be happy with me coming home too much after supper.”  
Jean stood up too, glancing at the phone in his palm. “All rightie.”

Reiner glanced into the windows. “Sure you don’t want me to talk to your mom?”

Jean laughed. “Nope, I don’t think she’s forgiven you for the boar-chasing incident.”

“Hey, it resisted. I pursued.” Reiner shrugged his large shoulders, seeming reluctant still to leave. Finally he patted Jean’s shoulder.

“Stay cool man.” He advised genuinely. “And...If you ever need anything, I can always drive up, okay?”

Jean was horribly aware of what his friend was referring to, and he didn’t like the mention, despite his good intentions. It was like setting a heavy weight on his chest. Jean had started to get used to people not knowing.

“I’ll be fine, Reiner.” Jean assured him with a forced smile. “Keep watching over Bertl, all right?”

Reiner started stepping down the porch, waving his hand in farewell. “Don’t worry about that. It’s hard enough to _stop_ staring at him.”

Jean laughed again and watched Reiner get into his truck and drive off, the sound of his car’s crappy engine fading away. Then he made his way inside, each step feeling heavier than the next. He paced into the living room and sat on the lounger tiredly. His mother looked up and he offered a small hello to her. She smiled broadly at his return. She was reading a book right now, her legs covered in blankets where she lay on the couch. He leaned back on the recliner and shut his eyes.

Reiner was being a really good friend. Jean got that, and he appreciated it a lot. But still, he hated the underlying goal Reiner had. It wasn’t like Reiner was being fake or something, but the fact that he was visiting a lot more so had to do with Jean’s old problems that still kept everyone concerned.

He thought that was over with. Jean had been fine for almost two years. No anxiety. No depression. It was fine. He’d made friends of Reiner and the others at Trost. He improved his abilities, joined the cross country, took choir class, the whole bit. And he had felt happy for the first time since middle school.

But then, he moved back. Of course, a lot of it had been his own decision. Jean’s dad was staying in Trost; He could have stayed with him. But, his parents thought it would be best for his mom to be in a more comfortable atmosphere. Trost was a much bigger town than Shiganshina; Not quite a city, but some good skyscrapers away from it. It was rowdy with traffic and bustled with people all day and night. Shiganshina was quiet and calm, much better for an ill woman to stay in.

Jean was given an option in where to stay for senior year, but to be fair it would’ve been stupid to stay in Trost. His mother should have someone with her at home most hours of the day. He made sure he came home quickly most of the time to check on her, and cooked the meals when she was feeling worse. But their home life had been all right. He hated the illness, though. His Mother used to be on her feet all the time. And Jean didn’t want to lose someone again.

Jean was sitting in the living room and instinctively reached for the key around his neck, and realized in horror:

It wasn’t there. He started patting his pockets frantically. He never takes it off so why...

Shit. Oh _shit_. He’d rushed out so fast today he forgot his cord had snapped during band. He was holding it because his band shorts didn’t have pockets, and left it right in the band room. _Shit_. He’d been entrusted to hold on to that damn key and he fucking left it. Fuck. He should’ve remembered. How could he forget it? How did it take so long for him to notice? He was an asshole.

“Jean-bo? What’s wrong?”

He faintly heard his mother across the room, looking up from her book. She had really started looking better since coming back, but now she had worry strewn over her pretty but aging face. Jean hadn’t noticed that his breathing had accelerated, as his heart had.

He took a deep breath before answering. “No, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure, honey?”

“Yeah.” Jean affirmed with a more collected voice. “I’ll start on dinner.”

“Thank you, Jean-bo.”

He hated the fact he liked hearing her call him that. It almost calmed him down. But he still had to keep telling himself it would be fine. The key would be in the band room tomorrow. It was hard enough not to drive out to the school now and find it. Everything would be okay. Okay Jean? Everything would be okay.

Jean walked into the kitchen and started pulling pans out of the cupboards, and his eyes fell on the medicine cabinet. It was still full of the many treatments from before, and after the accident.

He hadn’t needed to take anything in a long time. He thought he was better. A stubborn side of him told him _hey. You can go back greater than ever. Finally get recognition you never had. And you’ll be able to do it without having anxiety attacks._

But here he was, already holding one of the bottles in his hand again. His arm shook slightly. Was it because he returned? To the streets he’d been with Marco? To the people who watched him in worse pity than at Trost?

To Eren Jaeger, who was the _last_ person Jean would expect to ask him how he was feeling. Not about his problems or how his situations were. Eren had clearly and genuinely asked for how he was, and the gesture didn’t seem as empty as most.

Because Eren didn't look at him with pity. Eren looked at him with accusation. That he was a liar. Somehow, he was seeing right through his facades. But why didn’t he get it? He didn’t want to hear Eren’s stupid concern. Jean was sick of hearing condolences. He was tired of people glancing at him and thinking,

“Is that him?”

“Yeah, the guy that hung around Marco...”

“He was already whack. He completely lost it after that...”

He wanted to just get on with his life. Even if he’d have to avoid even saying his friend’s name, Jean thought he’d already done so. But apparently he couldn’t. He couldn’t shake off the past. It was still haunting him with every step and every glance. He couldn’t wait to get out of this whole damn area. Jean was going to go to Massachusetts for college. He wanted a new life and to get the hell away from these people who couldn’t forget.

Especially Eren. Jean couldn’t let him of all people see what he’d become. A damned miserable waste of space. He was sick of feeling miserable.

Jean stared at two pills in his palm for a moment. Then, he threw back his head and popped them in his mouth, swallowing them drily, and pushing down the urge to take more of them. But he knew it was in vain. Pills would never erase that face he saw every time he blinked. That last, saddened look he ever received from Marco Bodt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I hope it doesn't completely look like I don't know what I'm doing haha...Again, thanks everyone for reading, I'm grateful for the kudos and comments you're so nice!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Jean have a loud conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit shorter buutt I thought it was a good stopping point for this one. Hope you enjoy!??

“You might get a car?”

Armin shrugged at me as we walked into the band room, earlier than usual. “It’s a " _maybe_ ". My parents told me last night they might do it for my birthday.”

“That’s October!” I remembered, surprise subverting my face. “That’ll only be a few months; this is great!”

Armin smiled appreciatively. “Yeah, you won’t have to cart me around anymore.”

To be honest, I’d probably end up missing it. I sort of liked Armin having to depend on me. It gave him a good reason to stay friends with me at least. Yet Armin’s parents rarely let him on a far leash. He couldn’t walk to school when it was only a few blocks away, and he didn’t get out much besides going to Mikasa’s or my house. They weren’t too happy when his grades dropped below A’s, either. Although, they didn’t have to worry about that. Armin would have a panic attack if that happened to him.

Armin told me his parents both used to serve in the Marine Corps, and that was where they met. They were both ardent and intelligible people, much like Armin himself was. The two married and had Armin, but needed to return to Iraq for a while longer. He was raised by his grandpa until they came back, and when they did they were almost...clingy. Not in a horrible way, of course, it was just that they were very lovable yet strict parents. Obviously they understood much of the importance of happiness and life and whatever after what they had to witness across seas. That made them better than a lot of parents nowadays, anyway. Armin was loved, and that was what was important.

Anyway, this made the news very exciting. I didn’t expect Armin to be getting a car until the second before he moved out. I didn’t doubt he was going to have _loads_ of rules coming with the thing, but I also doubted Armin cared. His parents were trusting him with a vehicle. And I had a feeling Armin would end up treating that thing like gold. Well, in his case, like a book.

Armin and I looked at the seats arranged in a semi-circle. Not many people were sitting yet, besides Mina practicing a complicated flute part and Sasha goofing off with Connie. In the front of the room, Mikasa was sitting on the floor sorting through copies of sheet music; probably doing favors for Erwin.

“Mikasa!” Armin called, running up to her with a big smile. “Guess what?”

Mikasa looked up at them, and her face softened while she pushed her hair out of her face. “What is it?”

Armin started telling her about his parents’ announcement, and since I already heard everything, I started walking toward the cubby room. As I passed him my eyes fell on Mikasa’s brother across the room, who also seemed to be shuffling through sheets. Levi started walking back with some stacks and raised an eyebrow at me once he saw I was looking.

“Got a problem?” He said lowly, setting the music on the table behind me. I frowned.

“Uh, no...” I shuffled my thumbs. It was uncomfortable because I saw for a fact that Levi knew exactly who I was, and knew my embarrassing childhood because of Mikasa, but I knew nothing about him. Not really thinking about it, I asked, “Well, how’s it feel to be back?”

Levi scoffed. “It’s filthy.”

“What?”

“It’s always been gross. When _I_ went to school it was. Do janitors even come down here?” He hedged me with a vexed expression distorting his features. “It always smells like gym socks and adolescence in here. And the _germs_ on this floor, from people emptying their spit valves, to the mud and shit you track in...” Levi shuddered. “Disgusting.”

  
I blinked at him, not really expecting the vent. “You a clean freak?”

Levi furrowed his thin eyebrows dangerously. “Maybe. I don’t personally see that as a bad trait.” He hesitated and added more discreetly, “Seriously, brat, I’ve never been able to use that pool again after what you did.”

My face flushed when he reminded me of the seven-year-old incident again. “Can you please stop mentioning that?”

“If you want it to stop, stop talking to me.” He directed, turning back to the papers. I noticed under his silky hair, his ears were pierced several times. He’d left all the holes empty save a cartilage piercing.

Still a little perplexed, I stammered, “Um, okay...then...”

I turned away and went into the cubby room, finding the locker encasing my trumpet and dialing the combination. Now that he mentioned it, the room did stink a bit, but so did the whole school. In fact I did doubt janitors ever did anything besides take out the trash bags. Maybe Levi was on to something there.

  
I know, I probably should’ve been taking my trumpet home for practice. It’s not like I didn’t have time, I didn’t have a job or anything. That, and Jean was definitely going to beat me for any solos if I continued procrastinating. I shuddered at the thought. I wasn’t about to let that happen. Where was he anyway? He usually arrived way before me. Maybe he had a bad morning? And why did I care?

I grabbed my trumpet and music but I clumsily dropped my water bottle. Apparently, the cap wasn’t on tight enough, because it popped off and water started splashing all over the tile and me.

“Jesus Christ.” I cursed, and when a smaller kid turned at me with a raised eyebrow, I added, “...Is our lord and savior. I’ll be back.”

I darted into the hall and into the bathroom to grab paper towels. I brought back as many as I could and cleaned up the water, trying to avoid uses of profanity.

Cue for Armin to walk in when I was making a mess. He was looking especially chipper already when he snorted at me. “Did you spill your water?”

“You always appear to mock my actions.” I pouted, letting the water soak into the towels and I stood.

“Hey, I was just asking a question.” Armin giggled, going to his locker for his flute.

I exhaled tiredly, cracking my neck. “And now I have to refill this stupid thing.” I added, gesturing to my water bottle.

He smiled. “Go ahead, I’ll finish cleaning this up for you.”

I blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Armin nodded, making his fluffy hair swish over his face. I thanked him and left the band area into the hallways. Since school wasn’t in session, the hallways weren’t lit, making it with the silence kind of creepy. The only sources of light were the exit signs glowing red above doors and the outside light from doors very far down the other end. Walking through reminded me of school, and how it would be starting again in only a few weeks. Yay for sitting in classrooms and contemplating homicide on a daily basis again.

I found the nearest drinking fountain, which was a bit far from the band room for my liking, and started filling the bottle. I wished I had a thermos to fill up or something. By the end of the day, the water was always boiling hot from the sun and not too refreshing.

Footsteps started sounding a ways from me. At first I was startled, but I turned to faintly see it was only Jean approaching. I shut off the fountain after taking a sip and called, “What, are you following me now?” Although, he couldn’t have known I was down here already.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side as he neared me. “Am I not allowed to get a drink if it’s within your all mighty presence?”

I couldn’t tell much in the dim lighting, but he wore the same old black sneakers he usually did with dark basketball shorts and a white T-shirt. I noticed his hair wasn’t as brushed as usual, little tuffs of dusty blond sticking up from his head. He looked drowsier today, and it crossed my mind that it looked kind of cute. Ew.

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” I retorted, trying to push past him, but he grabbed my arm and looked down at me, suddenly serious.

“Where...” He started, his voice dangerously low. “Where did you get that.”

I furrowed my eyebrow, not understanding what the hell he was talking about, but then I followed his gaze and saw he was looking at my neck.

I forgot about the key. I’d given the key I found yesterday a new cord and put on the necklace to bring it to band. I didn’t mean to do it to claim it or anything, I simply wasn’t wearing pockets today, and I thought I’d lose it if I just held it.

Unfortunately, I also forgot to take it off before I got in the band room, so now I looked like a thief. But he didn’t have to be so pissed, I’d return it in a heartbeat; that’s why I freaking brought it. What was with that tone he had? He’d never used that with me before. Yes, he was usually angry with me and likewise, but there was something dark behind his eyes now, omitting twinkle of mockery he regularly had.

“You left it on the fucking ground yesterday.” I told him, surprised my voice came out steady with his scowl fixed so strongly on me. “I thought it would—”

“Give it back.” He interrupted. My eyes widened a little, marveling at where this was coming from. If he acted like a damn adult he would be grateful his precious jewelry wasn’t thrown away, but instead he was getting horribly possessive. It was just a freaking key. Unless...

“Not if you’re going to be an ass about it.” I retaliated. That was a lie. I didn’t give a shit about it. Yet for some reason I wanted to see more of this though. Something about his dangerous tone made me want to push him over the edge and see what he'd do. Maybe I lived life on the edge that way.

Jean clenched his chiseled jaw as if he was trying to keep himself calm. It looked like he wanted to tear it off my neck but didn’t want to ruin the cord.  
“You better give it back right now, Jaeger.”

“Make me.”

And he did. Jean grabbed my shirt collar and shoved me against the wall, hitting my head and forcing my heatbeat to accelerate. The water bottle was knocked out of my hand, so thank god it was sealed this time.

I laughed. “What’s your deal, horseface?”

His hands gripped my wrists to pin me. The hold was firm to the point of pain, but I pressed my lips together to stop any noise of protest from coming out. Instead I let out a strangled moan, which was kind of worse. Curse the fact he’d gotten taller than me, since now it was easy for him to pin me. Blinking in the darkness, all I could focus on was his angered face in front of me. Man, I’d really tipped him this time. I was thankful for the dim lighting, to be honest. It was hiding the ridiculous blush on my cheeks.

“I’m not fucking around.” Jean’s low growl sent a chill down my spine. “Give. It. Back.”

I squinted up at him, refusing to completely lose this. “You could say please, asshole.”

"Fine." We were nose to nose. “ _Please_.”

I didn’t break our glare as he released one of my hands and I pulled the necklace over my head and swung it over his. The key dangled over his chest. He furrowed his eyebrows at me like he thought I had another intention, and kept me pinned in a tense silence. I could almost hear our hearts beating. Our lips were only inches away from touching.

“What the hell is wrong with you.” I murmured, breaking where my thoughts had been going. “It’s just a key.”

His grip on my wrist tightened again, but it seemed unintentional.

“It’s not just a key.” He muttered, but the statement came out like he was unsure of himself and what he did. He inhaled and his lips parted to add more, but he didn’t.

  
My head still throbbed from Jean ramming me into the wall, but for some god-awful reason, I wasn’t resenting this. Not completely. The scent of peppermints overwhelmed me from his breath. His body on me was warm, completely conflicting with the cold stone on my back. I was feeling a ball of energy building in my chest, desperate to explode, but I forced it down. No. This was _Jean_. God No.

“Um,” A female voice said timidly. We tensed and pushed off each other instantly. I looked over and the color guard girl, Christa, was watching us with wide blue eyes. She appeared flustered like she’d just walked in on something intimate. Which she did not. She definitely did not.

“H-have either of you seen Ymir?” She asked with her voice like chimes. Jean and I glanced at each other awkwardly and shrugged.

“I haven’t seen her.” Jean said, his voice cracking. He covered it by clearing his throat. Christa sighed and blew stray blonde hairs out of her face.

“Shoot. She ran off a second ago after arguing with Petra... Well, thanks anyway.”

She seemed very relieved to scamper out of the dense atmosphere, the clicks of her flip-flops ebbing away. I turned back to Jean, thankful I could move again without worrying he’d brush my thigh.

“Why the hell did you steal it, shithead?” Jean demanded, his anger obviously not completely died down.

“ _You’re_ the idiot that left it.” I pointed out. “I didn’t want it to get lost so I picked it up. I didn’t do that to mess with you, jerk.”

He raised an eyebrow incredulously, but then looked down at the cord. A bit of confusion colored his features.

“Wait...The string I had was broken. Did you... replace it for me?” He asked in disbelief. My face reddened.

“Ah, well, yeah...But I wasn’t doing you a favor. It could’ve been anyone’s.”

Jean pursed his lips, and part of me was wondering if he was going to thank me. As expected, he didn’t. He began to turn away.

“Why is it so important?” I blurted without thinking. I already had an idea, but I wanted to hear it from him. Frankly, I wanted him to prove me wrong.

“That’s nothing _you_ need to know.” He grumbled hastily, shoving the key under his shirt.

“Why not?” I pushed. “It’s just a house key...Did you think I’d rob you or something? Really I don’t want to go to your horse stable.”

He scoffed. “You’d be out of luck anyways. It doesn’t go to my house.”

“Then whose is it? Got a girlfriend?”

“No!” Jean said, appearing frustrated. “It was just Mar—” He stopped and shook his head, but he’d said enough. “I don’t have to tell you anyth—”

“Marco’s.” I finished, him having confirmed my thoughts. It looked almost like he winced hearing it.

“Y-yeah.” He mumbled. “Now get off my back, dillhole.”

“Five years.” I stated, not letting him drop the subject. “Five years, and you can’t even say his name?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Marco?” I repeated, inching closer to him. “Marco Bodt? You’re best friend?”

“Shut up! No he’s not!” Jean snapped. “If you haven’t been around lately, he’s dead!”

The word ‘dead’ seemed to hurt him to say. I had the feeling I should do as he said and shut up, but I pressed on.

“You’re being selfish. Marco can’t be the most important thing to you if you’re pretending you’re fine on a daily basis when you fucking aren’t. You’re just running away from everything.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed at me. “Don’t talk down to me. You don’t know what it’s like. Scold me when something actually goes _wrong_ in your life. How would you feel if Armin died, huh?”

My lips parted but I didn’t speak.

“You’d fucking hate it.” Jean answered for me. “You’d hate not having him beside you all the time and getting to see his face, or hearing him even talk.” He paused as if he was letting me imagine what that would be like.

I didn’t like it.

“And you’d hate the way everyone watches you.” He continued, looking away. “Watching you like a lost fucking puppy that needs endless pity. Others looking at you like it’s your damn fault and should apologize or some shit. Or,” He turned back to me, his eyes obscure. “Acting like I should completely forget about him and pretend like he never existed. Everyone expects something different, but no one even actually cares. And it’s bull shit. I’m sick of it. I'm sick of being a walking tragedy.”

“Jean it’s...” I began, but I didn’t have anything to say. He’d shut me up with that one. Because he was right, I _didn’t_ understand. I’ve never been through what he has. Nothing really had gone wrong in my life. I was in fact, one of the onlookers that judged him. What category was I in for him? Did I pity him? I knew I didn’t blame him. Why the fuck would anyone?

“Forget it.” Jean backed away from me again. “We’re going to be late.”

“Sorry. For that.” I said. He regarded me but didn’t answer. I don’t know why I kept digging at his problems. I wanted to be able to understand him. How he was feeling. Honestly, if losing Armin was how he felt, then he was handling better than I would. I’d probably completely lose it. Armin would never deserve to die. Marco must have been just like that. A smart, nice kid with a bright future. Someone who all in all, shouldn’t have died.

I wasn’t sure what he should do. Jean should move on, but he shouldn’t have to forget him. He should be able to be with other people without remembering him. But fading into the past seems like such a sad fate. Jean probably didn’t want to let that happen to Marco, either. No one wants to be left behind.

Jean was still lingering in the hall when I prepared to walk back. Maybe I should’ve been trying to cheer him up, but god knows I don’t know how to do that. Consoling has never been my best trait. I'd usually think “solve the problem now” and you won’t be upset anymore. That wouldn’t really work in Jean’s case. Most other comforts included hugging and holding and well, many things I couldn't do with him in a lifetime. Not that I was complaining, of course. But, from my conversation with Levi, I remembered something that could probably do the trick. No, it would certainly do the trick. It would take a lot of sacrifice, though.

Knowing it was one thing I could definitely do, I put a hand on Jean’s shoulder and let go of my dignity with a sigh, dreading the hardship I’d go through after this information was transferred.

“I peed in the pool.”

Jean looked extremely bewildered. “Excuse me?”

“What Mikasa's brother was talking about, when I was seven.” I admitted, hoping I wouldn’t regret this. “I peed in Mikasa’s pool.”

Jean blinked at me and crossed his arms.

“Jaeger, if you thought that would make me feel better or something...” He grinned wickedly. “Well, you were right. Is _that_ why Mikasa stopped liking you?”

He laughed at me and I groaned, smacking his head and turning toward the band room. “All right, asshole. Let’s go...”

I was grateful to be back in the obnoxious light and sound of the band room after that conversation with Jean. We went to our seats and band commenced as normal, except that particular day I made every possible maneuver so I could avoid horse mouth, which still came to be hard seeing as how he was in my section. It was okay since he didn’t especially like me anyway, but I couldn’t bear to look at him. It wasn’t only for the fact he now knew the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me and most likely would tell every person ever. No, it was a worse reason, a more humiliating one. Because I had been thinking about kissing him. And shit had I wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, eren can be a piece of poop. but thanks for reading and the comments mean a lot to me, thank you!!
> 
> Also I'd like to mention I've never been in a similar situation to Jean's (I'm more like Eren here). This is just how i imagine it would feel like, I don't know, I'm sorry if its dumb. I just feel like for some people when something bad happens, people stop caring about the person and focus on 'oh, how are you feeling~' and 'oh, what a tragedy' and what not. It's like if something happens to you, you just become a walking sad story in the eyes of others. I guess that's what I'm trying to portray.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like a week later than I expected but I was busy I'm sorry!

The ocean water lapped at the dock’s piers. It seemed to be nightfall, but the moon was so bright it barely mattered. The water reflected its silver light so that I could see for miles.

Armin and Mikasa were beside me a moment ago, but eventually decided to go back inside. I continued to watch the water and listen to it crash against the beach. Something about water always intrigued me. I wasn’t sure what it was.

Maybe I liked the waves. They never stilled, the water was always changing. You never saw the same water twice. I liked the idea of things moving, things changing...

“Eren!” I heard a voice call my name. It was vaguely familiar. Where was it coming from? It was almost like I imagined it.

“Eren?” There it was again. It sounded like it was coming from in front of me...Or was it behind me?

I stood up suddenly, squinting out at the water. There was someone out there, and he sounded scared...and I knew him.

“Jean?” I called out. I was sure it was him I heard, yet suddenly Jean laughed behind me.

“What’s got you all worked up, Jaeger?” He asked with a grin, walking down the dock to me. I barely glanced at him. I yelled at him that someone was out there in the water, possibly needing help, but he just tilted his head.

“No one’s out there...Are you okay?”

I stared back out at the ocean again, and finally, I saw him. Jean was out there in the water, reaching up from the waves blindly. His face looked utterly terrified, and the waves were suddenly getting huge, swallowing him. Jean was in trouble, all alone. But wait...

“There’s no one there.” The other Jean urged, grabbing my arm and pulling me away from the edge. But he was lying...Jean was right there! He needed help, and if this fucking idiot would _let me go_ , I could help him...But how was there two of him?

I pulled out of Jean’s grasp and moved to the edge of the dock to dive in. I wasn’t a bad swimmer...I could probably save him...

“Come on, moron.” Jean held me again, putting an arm around me. “Wouldn’t everyone know if someone was drowning out there? God, no need to be suicidal.”

“B-but...” I turned around, and saw that there were a lot of people on the shore...what the hell was I seeing? No one could be in the water...

But the screams pounded in my ears. _Eren! Eren help!_ I kept hearing it; Jean was coughing, yelling my name, pleading for help, the words getting cut off as he was covered in water...How could I just ignore that?

“You’re just being stupid.” Not-drowning Jean pressed, pulling me closer to him. Somehow his arms around me were rather comforting, but I looked down at the water and saw Jean being pulled under the water...He was submerged now...My heart swelled with panic.

“No!” I shouted at Jean. “He’s drowning; we have to help him! He’ll die!”

Jean turned me towards him, putting a thumb on my lip and his other hand around my waist.

“I’m fine, Eren. You’re looking at me.” He smiled, but I couldn’t forget that Jean was dying under us right then...but yet, he was right here...What the fuck...

“Just forget about it.” He prompted, inching closer to me. What the hell was he _doing_? He held me by the back of my neck, sending chills down my spine. His body was pushed against mine as he pulled me forward and pressed his lips—

“Get the fuck up, Jaeger.”

My eyes shot open to blinding sun light, which I only saw for a fraction of a second, because I twisted off the porch swing immediately after. I pitifully fell with a crash on the cement porch below me and hurt stung my body. I groaned in pain and grabbed my head, taking a moment before opening my eyes again.

Jean, as if he’d popped right out of that dream, was staring down at me with annoyance and amusement. His hair was shining against the sunlight making it look blonder than usual.

I was still very sluggish on what even was going on, and why I was on the porch swing outside my house, but I grunted sleepily, “What the fuck are you doing here...?”

“It’s 4:00, dumb ass.” Jean said, gesturing to the tan Jeep in my driveway. It was still running.

That brought it all back. Today was Friday, and our first football home-game was tonight. We didn’t have practice on days with events, although we’d get ready early so we could practice before our pregame show. So, Armin, Mikasa, and I had decided to go to Pizza House, which was a family owned pizza joint we liked to go to. Seeing as how concessions were expensive as hell, we wanted to eat before the game.

Of course, word of it got out a little, so Sasha and Connie invited themselves. They go anywhere involving food, especially Sasha. And then, they along with Armin wanted Jean to come. I didn’t have much of a say anymore, and Jean was suddenly on board for the outing, much to my disgust. I’d been trying to avoid him all this week and last week, but apparently I wasn’t allowed to.

Despite being perfectly capable of sleeping in, I got up early. I guessed since school was coming back soon anyway, I might as well hold myself to a better sleeping schedule. I got ready after eating a healthy breakfast of everything in the fridge, and then sat around listening to music, unsure what to do. My mother would’ve preferred I do chores, but to hell with that. Finally, I’d wandered outside and laid out on the porch swing, lazily enjoying the warm sun. It must have been too relaxing, since I’d fallen asleep...

And had a weird fucking dream. Oh god. I hated weird dreams. Memories flooded back to me of Jean drowning and in the next second Jean kissing me. What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was just a dream, after all. You couldn’t really control what happened in dreams... But Jean was right above me now, with the same smug expression he’d had in it. Ookay, this was awkward.

I shut my eyes and tried to delete all information involving the dream where Jean had been getting way to close for comfort.

“God, alright, I’m up...” I said with a yawn, standing in a dazed manner. Luckily I didn't have to bring anything, since my trumpet and band shoes were at the school and I was already wearing the white t-shirt and shorts I needed under the uniform.

Jean stepped off the porch impatiently and asked, “What the hell were you dreaming about? You were fidgeting and talking. It was hilarious.”

I followed him, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. “What? No I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you were.” He insisted, turning back to me. “You don’t even shut up when you’re asleep.”

“What, were you watching me?” I jeered, rolling my shoulders. My head was still throbbing. “Well aren’t you creepy.”

His cheeks went pink and he stepped back. “No! No, You sicko, why the hell would I do that?”

“Well maybe you—” I stopped mid-stretch and looked at the device in his hand, which I now remembered he’d been holding it up. “Is that a phone?”

“Um...Yeah...”

“Horseface, did you take a fucking picture?”

“Not quite a picture...” Jean waved his hands in front of him defensively. “It’s just a video.”

Oh hell no. I made a grab for the phone. “Delete it!”

“No!” Jean said, holding the phone over his head so I couldn’t reach. “It’s Sasha’s.”

“I don’t care, get rid of it!” I jumped for it, but dammit, he was too tall. I also was still groggy from sleep, so my actions weren’t well calculated.

So instead of reaching for the phone, I grabbed Jean’s shoulders and kicked his legs out from underneath him, eliciting a yelp from him as he went down. I pinned him to the grass with an arm across his chest and reached for the phone with my other hand, but Jean overpowered me. He pushed my chest so that I drew away and rolled me over so I was beneath him. He straddled my hips and threw the phone in his pocket quickly, then grabbing my wrists as I struggled and pushed me down. It was too early for this.

“Calm down, sleepy head.” He sneered, obviously enjoying his victory. Dammit, that was the second win for him this week. He tried to frown as if this was childish or below him, but he was too fucking smug to act like he didn’t care. “Complain to Sasha, not me. She told me to.”

My eyes darted to the key dangling over me from the necklace. So he was still wearing it. Why had Marco given it to him? It couldn’t be the only thing he’d received from his former friend. What made the key so important? And fuck, why did I want to know?

I still wanted to ask him about it because I could barely hold my tongue in any circumstance, but Armin told me not to. I’d explained to him what Jean and I argued about the other week, and he said I shouldn’t have pushed him, and reluctantly, I knew he was right. “Jean will talk to someone when he’s ready to.” Armin had told me. “If he’s running away, he’ll come back.”

Still, the need to know was infuriating. For some reason, it bothered me that he was still so easily spooked by Marco’s memory. I wanted to know if his problems were more than simply losing someone, ‘cause people lose loved ones all the time. It came with living life. Jean couldn’t let one eat him away. But maybe Marco had simply meant that much to him.

I thought for an instant of the swelling panic I’d felt in my dream, where Jean had drowned. For some reason, it’d felt so _real_. I had to admit, I never wanted to feel that anxiety again. Of course, lucky for me, he was on top of me right now, fully alive and with a shit-eating grin on his dumb face.

“Alright, get off me.” I rasped, meeting his eyes. I meant sound angrier, but my voice cut to another yawn. Jean eyes widened a little and he complied hurriedly, removing the heated weight of his body from my hips. I stood up and wiped off my shorts, sure to have grass stains now. It didn’t matter how I was feeling about that guy, I’d whoop his ass for that.

We ran up to Sasha’s car and opened the rear doors to reveal extremely loud pop music resonating a radius of fifteen meters around us. Sasha must really enjoy her radio and stereo system.

For some reason Connie made claim to the passenger seat so no one else could sit there. He literally had a sign on glove box. So, I crawled into the backseat, grimacing. “Sash, seriously? Could you at least switch stations?”

She refrained from head banging on the steering wheel with a frown. “What?”

“For once I agree with it.” Jean muttered. I ignored his calling me an ‘it’. “If I have to listen to One Republic or One Direction one more time I might kill someone.”  
She turned around completely and wagged a finger at us. “Ah, ah. My car, my music. Deal with it.”

We mutually made incoherent sounds of protest as we buckled our seat belts. I liked a lot of classic rock and alternative music, so getting to listen to the repetitive shit that was all simple-minded people could handle wasn’t exactly my bread and butter. Still, we begrudgingly gave in and were all three singing along to Katy Perry by the time we picked up everyone else.

Damned catchy music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the short update, it was a lame stopping point, I've just been distracted recently and really needed to update it. I'll do better next time I promise! (this chapter is going pretty hand in hand with chapter 6)  
> If you have any questions you can always message me! And thank you for the comments and kudos everyone!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sorry I'm late we've been traveling and such. This chapter is picking right off from chapter 5, and it's pretty light and focusing a good bit on the ol' 104th gang. Don't worry though, the next few chapters will be heavier I promise!

Somehow everyone was absolutely starved by the time Sasha pulled up to the Pizza House.

“Good evening!” Connie greeted in a sing-songy voice as he opened the entrance door for us with a dramatic touch. “Your finest table, please!”

The girl behind the register only replied with a roll of her eyes behind her glasses as the rest of the group filed in. She was used to us stumbling in rowdily at this point.

I was hailed by the familiar smell of garlic and Italian dishes as I entered the vicinity. The atmosphere was always comfortable here, with warm but dim lighting. Tan and scarlet wallpapers covered the dining area with depictions of grape vines and Italian words I frankly couldn’t read. You could probably mistake the joint for a nice restaurant if not for the tang of pizza and soda along with the feeling that teenagers often reside there. That, and the music was some alternative radio station. Much more refreshing since being Sasha’s car.

“What do you guys want today?” The bespectacled girl, Rico said in a very bored voice. She used to go to school with us, but graduated this past spring. I didn’t know her too well, but always noticed her, mostly due to her lip piercing and silvery white hair.

Sasha grinned politely. “Hello, we’ll have 2 medium pizzas—one cheese, one pepperoni, and...” She turned around and counted heads. “...six regular drinks?”

“Cheesy bread!” Connie reminded under his breath.

“Oh! And cheesy bread!” Sasha added. Rico irritably rang up the order.

“That’ll be $26.89.” She sighed. We divided the cost between us and handed the money over to Sasha, who gleefully passed it on to Rico.

We all sat around a large corner booth with velvet red seats as we each filled our glasses. Sasha sat down last, making our little semi-circle go Sasha, Connie, Jean, me, Armin, and Mikasa.

“So did you guys get your schedules?” Connie asked, taking out his out-of-date flip phone. “Do we have any classes together?”

“I doubt _they_ do.” Sasha laughed, pointing at Armin and Mikasa. “Unless you’re suddenly top of the class, Connie?”

“Oh yeah!” Connie exclaimed in mock arrogance. “I’ll have you know I am in all the AP classes. I have AP lunch.”

We laughed, despite how dumb the joke was. Mostly because Connie was mostly in the lowest classes you could get.

“Anyway, Mikasa!” Sasha reached across the table towards the girl, her ponytail bouncing behind her. “Please tell me we have some classes together?”

Mikasa took a sip of her lemonade before counting off with her fingers. “I have AP language, French IV, Choir, AP Anatomy, Band, AP Calculus, and Ceramics honors.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Mikasa, how do you still manage to have a full schedule?”

She shrugged indifferently. Sasha had taken out her phone, probably looking at her own schedule. She pursed her lips. “Well, besides choir and band, we just have English together. Poop.”

Beside me, Jean was looking at his classes typed up on his iPhone. “Hey, Mikasa, we have French together.”

“Oh, cool.” Mikasa replied. “I thought I wouldn’t be knowing anyone in there.”

I frowned and looked over Jean’s shoulder at his schedule. “Do all of us have AP language together?”

Armin nodded, taking a sip of his Sprite. “I think so. There’s only two AP Lang classes, and the other one is fifth period, which is band.”

“Well, okay, mister know-it-all.” Connie said, spinning his straw in his glass. Despite calling him dumb all the time, Connie actually made the cut for the higher English courses. So, literally all of us had the same first period. I prayed mercy for the other souls who had to deal with Connie and Sasha in the same classroom.

I turned to Armin, who was the only one not in Choir. “When’s your Anatomy class, Armin? I haven’t found anyone else in that one yet.”

He looked up as he tried to remember and sighed. “Oh, I have it with Mikasa I think. When’s yours?”

“Ugh.” I sighed. “Mine’s last period.”

“Mine too.” Jean pointed out, grimacing. “Fun.”

So great, I had a class alone with Jean. Fantastic. I decided to ignore him and tried to think of a class I’d have with Armin.

“Well, I just have AP Lang, and third period Choir, German III, Band, and Anatomy last. Second and Sixth are study halls.”

Armin smiled. “I think we have second period together then.”

“Thank god.” I grinned. I thought Study hall would prove to be sickeningly boring, but having it with Armin would help a lot. Although he might take the name quite literally and study the whole time.

“Man, you two are practically dating.” Sasha laughed, and Armin and I stared at her in shock while everyone else laughed.

“What? No we aren’t!” Armin squeaked, his ears pink. “I’m 100% straight!”

“Well,” Connie snickered, looking at him like this was an interrogation. “I’ve heard Eren can be pretty persuasive.”

“Nuh-uh! NO.” Armin was getting increasingly red, waving his hands in front of him. “Mikasa, help me.”

“Well I don’t know.” Even she was giggling at him. “Ask Eren what he thinks.”

“Oh, I think he’s hot as fuck.” I joked and put an arm around Armin quite sexually.

“Eren! C’mon! It’s not funny!” Armin groaned.

“Oh, but I’m serious. _Muy Caliente_.” I flipped my hair dramatically and continued in my worst flirty voice. “So, Armin. Are you a painting? Cause babe I want to nail you up against a wall.”

Jean and everyone started cracking up at his expense as Armin slammed his head on the table in defeat. Mikasa patted his head.

“I get it Armin.” She consoled. “Dating Eren is pitiful. Trust me, I did it too.”

“I’m not dating Eren you sickos!” Armin’s voice was muffled by the table.

“Hey!” I said defensively. “I’m not that bad.”

Mikasa shrugged. “When you date someone and he turns out gay a year later it’s a little weird. Not good on my self-esteem.”

Mikasa and I had been friends for a long time, and yeah, it barely counts, but we ‘went out’ for a bit in sixth grade. Eventually we mutually broke up, mostly because we liked being friends better. And yeah. I started realizing I just wasn’t into girls that way.

The fresh from the oven pizza and cheesy bread came to our table after that. The smell of garlic infected my brain and steam still rose off the cheese, making me forget almost everything besides my hunger.

We all grabbed plates and dug in rapidly. Sasha still got the best pieces. I bit into the delicious cheese and sauce, tasting the sizzling pepperoni hidden underneath. My mind went into a short lived bliss. Pizza must have been a gift from heaven above.

“Well, come on, Mikasa.” I finally continued, drinking some coke to wash down the warm enchanting food. “I still think you’re hot.”

“Don’t make it gayer, Eren.” Jean sneered, and after swallowing a bite of cheesy bread he added to Mikasa, “But it is true.”

“What?” Mikasa said, genuinely confused. “I’m not...”

“Okay!” Sasha announced loudly with pizza still in her mouth. “Hands up if you’re in favor of dubbing Mikasa Ackerman as ‘hot as hell’?”

All our hands shot up. Hell, some kids at other tables raised their hands. Mikasa buried her face in her red bandana around her neck.

Sasha smiled, a smug glint in her wild eyes. “There you go.”

“I hate you guys.” Mikasa mumbled, a blush on her cheeks.

“We’re just being honest.” Connie said, his plate already almost clean. There wasn’t much more conversation after that, since we were all stuffing our faces with greasy food.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I wiped my hands off on a napkin and turned on the screen. I had just missed a call from my dad.

“What’s that about?” Armin questioned, his curiosity forcing him to look at my screen. I shrugged.

“Just my dad. Probably to inform me that he won’t make it to the game.”

“Why can’t your dad come?” asked Jean suddenly.

“It’s, well, it’s nothing really.” I answered, not expecting his sincere interest. “He usually can’t go. He has to work late most of the time. My mom probably isn’t going either.”  
Jean nodded, turning back to his root beer in front of him. “My parents aren’t going either. My dad will be here tomorrow though.”

“Why aren—” I stopped myself before I asked, remembering that his mother was sick and his father was still in Trost. I had to admit, I’d hate having a separated household like that, even if they were still married...

Thankfully Connie saved me by blurting, “I don’t know, I almost wish my parents wouldn’t come. They get embarrassing!”

My phone vibrated again. I prepared to answer, but this time it was a text.

_Dad:_  
 _Do you have any plans after your game today?_

I blinked at it, a vain hope that he was coming to the game blossoming in me. I know, it was just a dumb football game. It’s not like I was actually in the game; just the half-time show. But still, it seemed nice to have your parents coming to your games. I was actually a little offended about what Connie said.

I quickly replied with _“No, why?”_ And received an answer soon after that pulled my hopes back down.

_Dad:_  
 _All right. I’m sorry, we can’t make the game. But come home straight after; you and your mother and I have something to talk about._

I had to stare at the message for a bit before answering with _“Ok”_ and putting my phone away.

“What’s that about?” Jean asked, having seen my texts. I glared at him.

“Mind your own business.” I snapped, but I had to admit, the message worried me. It didn’t seem like a light tone. He could’ve told me what we had to talk about. Did someone die? Was I in trouble? Hopefully they didn’t check my history on my computer. Not sure if there was anything for them to find, but if there was, they’d find it. Being a teenager was hard.

Soon, it seemed everyone was done, and somehow there weren’t any left overs. With Sasha around, though, leftovers were hard to come by.

“All right, everyone ready to go?” Sasha asked, standing with everyone else. Jean had already gone out for some reason.

“I just have to go to the bathroom.” I said. “I want to wash my face.”

“I’ll go too.” Armin offered. Sasha grinned mischievously.

“Again: dating.”

“No we aren’t!” Armin denied again, but I just laughed and brought him along with me to the restrooms. I opened the doors to the strangely clean and roomy bathroom, and was surprised to see Jean was standing in front of the sinks, looking down at something. He looked upset.

“What’re you doing?” I asked. He flinched and spun around abruptly to face us, scrambling to pick something off the counter and shove it in his pocket. Whatever they were made a rattling noise.

“What? What is it?” He asked, visibly caught off guard. Armin was watching him with concern.

“We’re getting ready to leave.” Armin told him. “We’re just using the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Jean said awkwardly, his hand still clutching whatever was in his pocket. His gaze kept switching between us. “Okay.”

“What were you doing?” I asked again. Weren’t those pills?

He glowered at me. “Washing my hands. What else do you do with a sink?”

I stared at him, but I felt Armin’s hand pinch my arm, which was in his language saying ‘back off’. He must have seen them too. But why was he hiding it? If it was a normal medication he could easily take it in front of us...

“Okay.” I finally said, still watching him suspiciously. Jean rushed out of the bathroom and left Armin and I alone.

“What the hell was that about?” I said, and Armin just shrugged.

“Maybe he’s ashamed.” He guessed, moving over to the sinks and turning on the faucet. “He probably just doesn’t want to take them in front of us.”

“Take what?” I asked. “I didn’t know he had any prescriptions...”

Armin sighed, finishing washing his hands. “Yeah, he kept it hushed though. I only know because I was in the office once in middle school when he was getting a dose.”

“And you never told me?”

“It was never really relevant...” Armin pointed out, but he continued, “He’s just always had some minor mental problems. Anti-depressants of some sort. I know he was in therapy, too. They might have went and prescribed more after...you know...”

“Marco.” I finished, it dawning on me that Jean has worse problems than I’d previously thought. I never realized he already had health problems. He had to have therapy? Even before the accident? I hoped to god he’d never hurt himself. To think that I’d been a jerk to him when he was going through that. “Is that why it was so bad on him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t think we should force him to talk about it.” He paused. “Not yet.”

“I doubt I’m who he’d have to talk to.” I scoffed as Armin dried his hands. Cause honestly, I had been an asshole. To be fair, he was an asshole back, but still...I knew I wasn’t the only one to pick on him sometimes...What if he was depressed from that? Was I part of the reason he hurt?

Armin fixed me with a scowl; something I really wasn’t used to.

“Are you guy’s friends or what?” He demanded out of the blue. Eh?

“What do you mean?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

He tossed aside his blond hair, exasperated. “Half the time you talk about hating him, and the other you care and you’re fussing over how he’s feeling. What gives?”

“I-I don’t...” I tried to answer, but with Armin glaring at me I couldn’t really respond well. I wasn’t sure what he meant. I didn’t care, I was just worried. Wait. That didn’t make sense. I wasn’t worried, I was just...concerned? No, I only wanted him to be okay. All right, these are all just the same thing. Shit.

“If you like him, you should probably try acting less grumpy all the time.” Armin continued. My nose scrunched in disgust.

“ _What?_ ” I gasped. “I never—I don’t like him!”

“Eren, I’ve known you your entire life.” Armin rolled his eyes. “I think I’d know if you had feelings for someone.”

“B-but I don’t. Jean is...” I tried to think of a word. “The most he is to me is a section member. And an obnoxious one at that.”

He raised his eyebrow at me disbelievingly, but exhaled slowly. “Fine. You win. But once you decide to talk to me about it, I’m always here.”

I watched his face, wondering if he was pulling my leg.

“You don’t talk to me about this stuff.” I said. “Why would I have to tell you?”

“We’re friends, Eren. And unlike you, I don’t lie to myself about feelings I have for people. Which is what Jean and you both are doing all the time.”

“But it’s...wait a second.” I caught up to his previous statement. “Do you...have feelings for someone?”

“What?” His blue eyes widened in alarm. “I never said that.”

“Yes you did. You have feelings for someone.”

“No I don’t.”

“Armin.”

“I don’t! Eren I swear—”

“Armin, oh my god! Who is it? You never told me—”

“And I’m not going to now!” He interrupted, his face just as red as it was when I was flirting with him earlier. “And there’s no point to, really. She’d never like me that way.”

“So it _is_ a girl.” I confirmed.

He glared at me. “I _told_ you people I was straight! Should I cut my hair or something?”

“No, no. Your hair is fine, I was kidding.” I smiled, finally turning on the sinks to wash up, and I looked up wistfully. “Guess that’s just another man I cannot have.”

“Oh shut up, Eren.” Armin snapped huffily, leaning against the wall to wait for me. Honestly, I didn’t know how, but Armin managed to pull off his page-boy cut quite well. I knew that was nothing I could do.

I wiped my face with a paper towel and watched my reflection. My skin was darker than most people’s around here, and that was always more prominent in summer. I tried not to think about my looks too often. I really didn’t like my features. My arms were skinny and I wasn’t tall and my hair never stayed put and my eyes were too big. I didn’t look like—well, another person I knew, who was tall, blond and muscular and very easy on the eyes despite how repulsed I was every time that crossed my mind.

We finally exited the restroom and everyone was already waiting outside by the door for us. We joined them quickly and Jean turned to us with a frown. “What took so long?”  
“They were probably making out.” Connie cackled, and Armin looked like he wanted to be sick.

“It only took so long because Eren made a mess we had to clean up.” He lied easily. He said it so matter-of-factly I almost believed it. He had a knack for lying. I decided not to deny it.

“He does that.” Mikasa noted with a smile. “Make him clean it up himself next time.”

Armin beamed at her, his gaze softening again when he turned to her. “Will do.”

We all started exiting the restaurant, but that little exchange made something connect in my head like puzzles. I can’t believe I never saw it before.

“Come on Jaeger. What’re you doing?” Jean asked, and after seeing my shocked expression his eyebrows lowered. “Um, are you okay?”

“Uh, nothing. Let’s go.”

I shook my head and started walking, Jean behind me. Yeah, Armin was a good liar, and he’s known me for my whole life, but I’d also known _him_ for _his_ whole life. And maybe I was a bit slower than him, but I was catching on now. How long had he felt this way, though? I guess I never noticed because I’d never thought about Armin liking someone. He was always distracted, always had other, more important matters on his mind. I felt no one really deserved him at my school, anyway. Except her. And now i was realizing how much he lights up when we see her, and how happy he seems when he talks to her, and the way he smiles at her.

Armin had feelings for Mikasa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys when push comes to shove I too am an armikasa shipper. Sue me.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I'm immensely grateful for the kudos and comments! (I'm sorry if I don't always reply to comments, I just feel awkward if I see them late or something I'm awkward I'm sorry)
> 
> Again, the next few chapters will be a little more exciting and our angry boyfriends may start being less of dillholes about things! (Next update also won't take so dang long I'm sorry)  
> Anyway, if you have comments, talk to me below or on tumblr at serrie-smiles! Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First football game of the season doesn't go quite as Eren expected, especially in regards to Jean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good day everyone the gay is here. This chapter isn't as short as the previous ones, and it gets slightly violent i guess? Whateve please enjoy!

“Here,” Armin handed my uniform to me along with my hat box he’d picked up out of the uniform room for me. We’d all made it to the school to find the band room up and roaring with enthusiasm of our first home game. Freshman left a mess of candy and pop and wrappers that would give Levi a stroke, if he were here today. Luckily for him, he had some business to do at his college. So the band kids were free to be rowdy and obnoxious with an aura of excitement filling the room to the brim.

“Thanks Armin,” I said, and he whisked away saying he had to talk to Erwin, his ponytail dancing behind him. He looked a little awkward looking at me, and I had the inkling that he knew I may have guessed his secret. That might be because I was shaking with excitement about it, but that was beside the point. I’d just never expected him to like someone at our school.

Then again, I don’t think anyone can go without falling for Mikasa Ackerman. The beautiful, talented, soft spoken but strong, refusing-to-use-emojis girl. She was pretty much in the same boat as Armin, though. She hadn’t really dated people, partly because it wasn’t in her priorities. She didn’t really show interest in many other people, unless it was out of pity. After thinking about it, it’s like they were made for each other. Still, I didn’t know how Mikasa thought of him.

Thus, I went to work putting on the damn marching uniform. It usually ended up taking two people to put on the uniform, but I was a bit too stubborn for that. I slipped on the black high waist slacks over my shorts and pulled the wool jacket over my arms. I was dreading wearing this uniform for the fiery hell of the outdoors.

For a marching band ensemble, it was pretty snazzy to me. They mocked a tradition solider uniform, clad in light blue and white, save the pants. Our plaques over the front zipper weren’t too showy; a simple white and blue sash embroidered across the chest with _Eagles_ written in black script, covering the traditional vertical bars over the front.  
The most interesting part of the uniform was actually on the back, which was usually left for opposing teams to see rather than the home viewers. On the back was a crest of the most popular symbol for our school. A pair of wings; one white, one black. It wasn’t our feathery mascot, but it was cooler to look at than some cartoon of a bird.

“This is a bit baggy.” Jean complained, picking at the loose chest of his jacket. His uniform hadn’t been adjusted yet, so to accommodate his height they had to give him a larger uniform. I observed how he looked in the uniform, definitely doing its job of making him look taller and his shoulders broader. The blue of the uniform made his fair hair and eyes more vibrant. The fact he made the uniform look hot gave me the urge to jump off a cliff.

“Well, that’s ‘cause your limbs are unnaturally long.” I told him, turning away so I could hook the collar. Or at least attempt to. I couldn’t see the clasp by my neck so I was helplessly trying to find the hook but, no cigar.

Jean suppressed a laugh, his clasp already perfect over his neck. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Shut up, I got it.”

“You look stupid.” He rolled his eyes and swirled me around to face him. He held the top of my jacket, but then he looked down and sighed irritably. “Well duh, you couldn’t get it. The buttons holding the collar are undone, dumbass.”

I grunted to acknowledge his comment. That didn’t mean _he_ had to do it. I watched his concentrated expression as he reached behind my neck and snapped the collar into place. My skin prickled when I felt his colder rough hands against it. He was too close for my comfort. Way too close.

“What’s your problem?” Jean asked as he finished hooking my collar. I hadn’t realized my face had stiffened as I thought about him. I wondered if he knew I’d seen his medications earlier. Probably. I sucked at hiding things.

Before I could answer, though, Erwin came in front of the room and gave us a ten minute warning to be outside on the practice field in our warm up block.

 

\-----

 

Our pregame show went all right, despite the scorching heat we had, even at sunset. To be completely honest, despite Erwin saying _“A performance is a performance!”_ , we didn’t put that much work into the football game stuff. Our pregame and half-time stuff used simple commands and formations that we could practically learn in a day. That way, we could put the most of our efforts into competitions.

The pregame had the basic stuff: The fight song, the Alma Mater, some little stand tune, and the star spangled banner. After that, we’d do a tunnel for the football players to run through.

The music was extremely easy and the drill was yawn-inducing, but the crowds seemed to enjoy it so it was enough. Of course, the crowd was also so pumped I think a squirrel darting across the field would start them screaming and cheering.

After the game began and the idiocy commenced, the band sat on a segregated set of bleachers on the end of the field, with water prepared. Mikasa stood in front, ready to conduct us whenever Erwin decided we had to play.

I always loved it when she was in her drum major uniform. Her hair was pulled back and out of her face, and she wore a black jacket with longer coattails to oppose her fellow band members. The back adorned the same wings that our uniforms had. There was also a miniature set of wings over her heart on the front, and two on her shoulders. Armin and I sat near the percussionists so we could talk to her between songs. I watched Jean sit by Thomas and was quickly joined by the goofy mellophone players.

Everyone yanked off their hats, trying to wipe the sweat of their foreheads. I pulled off my own hat too, revolted by how damp my hair felt. Beside me, Armin stood up, tossing his fingerless gloves in his hat next to his flute.

“I’m going to get a cup of water.” He told me, adjusting his ponytail. “Do you guys want some?”

“Sure, thanks man.” I said, as Mikasa nodded. He bounced away and I thought, now was the opportune time. The moment Armin was out of hearing-range I blurted, “Hey, Mikasa?”

“Yeah?” asked Mikasa, sitting beside me. The glitter on her sash sparkled in the grand stadium lights.

“Well...” I thought about how to word this without telling her too much. Honestly, the best choice was to keep my big mouth shut, but let’s face it, I’m garbage.

“What do you think of Armin?” I finally said.

“Armin?” She repeated, her fine eyebrows tense with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well as in...” I hesitated. “What do you think of him, like, dating wise?”

“D-dating wise?” She echoed again, her dark eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“Well he, uh...” Her voice faltered, looking away. “He’s...all right. I mean, so are you though, I mean...why are you asking?”

“Well I was...I was just wondering if we could set him up with someone.” I lied. “I thought maybe he should give someone a try before we graduate, you know? Maybe take someone to homecoming.”

A fucking plus to Eren Jaeger. That was the best lying job I’d ever done. Score.

“Really?” She said, looking a bit taken aback. “I never really thought he needed anyone...”

I hoped to god that was jealousy in her face, because she definitely didn’t look like she was for the idea.

“Well, still, I think he should try it.” I pressed, taking off my white gloves. “I know there are girls that like him.”

“No one good for him, though.” She muttered, which was a similar belief I had. But she met my suspicious gaze and added, “Whatever, though. He’s nice, and intelligent, so you’ll have to find someone like that. Someone who shares interests, too. Maybe Mina?”

“I don’t know.” I said, trying to keep the smile off my face. This was going well. “There really isn’t a girl smart like him, besides you.”

“D-don’t be ridiculous, Eren.” She snapped. She looked the slightest bit flustered, but I’ve never seen her looking rattled at all. Talking about this was definitely making some kind of stimulation.

“No, I’m pretty sure no one else is really on par with him.” I decided. “So unless you want to date him or something—”

“Hey Eren! Armin’s back!” Mikasa interjected loudly as the blond boy came back with three cups of water in his hands.

“Sorry,” Armin said as he handed us water. “The line was a bit long.”

He looked at Mikasa and raised an eyebrow when she didn’t meet his gaze.

“Mikasa? You okay?” Armin sat down beside her. “Your face looks red.”

“I’m fine!” She claimed in a rather high pitched voice, practically crushing her water cup. “I was tired so I slapped myself to wake up, that’s all.”

I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing. I’d never seen her like this before. Maybe she did have some feelings for Armin after all.

 

\-----------

 

The game was, as we could easily guess, boring as heck. The other school was Stohess, and they weren’t a big football school. To put it blunt: They sucked. My lips were starting to hurt from playing the fight song every touchdown.

By half-time, we were winning 42 to 6. Then we watched their marching band’s half time show. The band showed much more promise than their football team, but given their numbers I was pretty sure they were a class above us in competition. I especially thought they had a strong drumline.

Then it was our time to shine. We lined up on the sideline and did our salute before marching on to the field: pressing your instrument to your chest in your right hand, your left hand behind the small of your back. To my sides were Jean and one of the freshman trumpets. The freshman girl looked a little nervous. Jean looked bored but smirked when he caught me glancing at him. Mikasa was above us on a podium, doing her own salute to the audience. They cheered louder as she did.

And we performed. A short, maybe 6 or 7 minute show. The songs were just some simple pop songs picked out by some of the seniors. We opened with ‘Counting Stars’. Whether the people in the crowd were sick of the popular piece or not, I doubted it mattered. It was easy for us to do, but I understood that Erwin wanted us to treat it like our competitions, anyway.

So I picked up my knees when I had to, and straightened my legs when I had to. I kept my posture straight, and played to the best of my ability. We ended with a third and final song, an arrangement of ‘Too Close’ by an ‘Alex’ something, I didn’t remember. Trumpets kept the melody while the lower brass did the weird dubstep sounds and the drumline kept a quick beat. By the time the chorus kicked in we moved into a half-time march, giving it a more dramatic feel and getting the crowd excited.

And pretty soon, we were finished. There was plenty of cheering, but I really didn’t care. What I really wanted was some peace and quiet. Football games were over-stimulating.

To be honest though, I was a bit proud. Most bands would just do their competition shows for their half-times, so they don’t put any work in anything besides the precious competition. Because nothing else for marching band _really_ matters right? Well, Erwin thinks no. He thinks we’re capable of doing it all, so we do.

3rd quarter started going by. Most band members stripped off their jackets and went to the bathrooms and got concessions. Armin and Mikasa and I stayed back though and simply basked in the fact we got to rest.

Armin was holding his flute with a cup of water in his other hand. “Are we still practicing the big show for post-game?”

“I think so.” Mikasa sighed. “But shit, I’m tired.”

“Same.” I agreed. I looked up at the scoreboard: 3:34 minutes left of the quarter. We were now winning 55 to 6. Ugh. Can’t we just cut the game now and let them stop humiliating themselves?

By the 2:00 mark, most of the band members were back. We were supposed to be back by the 1:30 minute mark. But I noticed someone was missing.

“Where’s Jean?” I asked, looking around. Armin and Mikasa shrugged. I looked up at Sasha and Connie in the rows above and asked the same thing.

“I donno.” Sasha replied to me. “He walked off without us for some reason.”

“We thought he’d be here already.” Connie added.

The clock was stopped at 1:42 now. That idiot was going to get us in trouble.

“Whatever.” I sighed, setting aside my uniform jacket with my trumpet and gloves. “I’ll go find him.”

“Better hurry.” Armin warned. I nodded and rushed out of the stadium area.

It was completely dark now, and I could barely tell who was who in the crowds. The people standing around made my job more annoying and tedious than in the first place. Lucky for me, the person I was looking for was in a fucking flashy band uniform. Although, he must have been only wearing the slacks and white T shirt.

But he wasn’t in the bathroom, and wasn’t in the food line. Did he leave or something? Was he chatting under the bleachers? The clock ran down to 0:00. I squinted at the bleachers the band sat at, but he still wasn’t there. Dammit, where was he?

I decided to give up. I was striding by when I heard someone behind the big brick concession stand:

“Too much of a freak at Trost you had to come crawling back?”

I froze.

“Shut your shit mouth, Daz.” Jean’s voice. My heart lept. “You don’t know anything. Which isn’t an understatement, apparently. I thought you graduated. Did you fail again?”

“Shut up, Kirschtein!”

I heard a punch. Oh _shit_. What did he just get into? I peeked around the corner and saw it: Jean was confronted by the building by three guys. This obnoxious kid Daz, who was still shaking pain out of his hand from striking Jean, a black haired guy named Marlowe with a bowl cut, and another fat one I didn’t recognize.

Jean had taken a swift punch to the cheek, but he didn’t look too daunted. Still, there were three guys there, ready to defend. Jean didn’t stand a chance. God, what should I do?

“Wait a second, why did you move again?” Daz pondered out loud, shrugging his bony shoulders excessively. Then his ugly face distorted from laughter.

“Oh that’s right! You were Marco’s little fuck buddy!”

Jean’s body stiffened. And then he did something surprising. He grabbed Daz’s shoulders and pushed his legs out from under him. Daz fell immediately.

That was the move I pulled on Jean earlier today.

“Don’t you dare say his name, asshole!” Jean shouted as he got down and punched Daz in the face. Repeatedly. Jean’s look was vicious. I’d never seen him like that. Should I interfere? Not many people hung out behind the concession stand, but those who did were starting to cheer on the fight. Hell, I had to admit it was awesome seeing Jean give him what he deserved.

But the other two guys grabbed Jean from under his arms and pushed him against the wall brutally. They started punching him over and over again. Daz stumbled to standing, holding his nose. I could faintly see blood seeping out of Daz's hand. This was getting bad. I had to stop this.

“Why not, Kirschtein? We were his _real_ friends. He didn’t give a shit about you.”

“Shut up!” Jean yelled as he tried to resist being held back.

“And guess what?” Daz egged on.

“It’s your fault he’s dead!”

_Huh?_

Jean didn’t answer that. His eyes were wide with horror of the words. He stopped resisting the punches. Just like before. My chest swelled with anger.

I took in a breath and called out, “Well, aren’t you guys just fucking kids.”

The guys looked up and stopped punching Jean, looking for the source of the comment. I came into view and approached them nonchalantly. Jean stared at me like I was crazy.

“What the hell did you call me?” Daz grumbled as I neared them. I had to stop from laughing when I got up close; Jean really fucked up his face.

“Seriously.” I gestured around us. “Are you middle schoolers? Beating people up behind a school building? Real mature. All you need now is a playground.”

“Stay out of this, Jaeger.” The fatter kid warned in a drawling voice, dropping his hold on Jean. Marlowe followed suit and they stood beside Daz, and Jean crumbled to the ground. So good news: They stopped hitting Jean. Bad news: They wanted to hit me now. Fabulous.

I narrowed my eyes at both lackeys. I’d been told my glare was pretty murderous and my bark was worse than my bite, so I planned to use it. It seemed to work from their uncertain expressions.

“Why are you here anyways, Daz? Aren’t you on the football team?” I questioned, stepping between the guys and Jean. “Oh that’s right. They kicked you off when you failed.”

“Fuck you.” Daz barked, his furrowed brows wrinkling his entire face. Gross. “I’ll teach you for talking to me like that.”

“No, _they_ will,” I pointed to the other kids. “Am I right?”

At that, big boy went to grab my shirt, but I had fast reflexes. I ducked and punched him from under the chin. I felt my knuckles contact with the bone and it stung. While he was hunched over I fastened my hands together and clobbered him in the back of the head. His knees buckled. Okay, that was too easy. The thing about these idiots is they’re just brutes. They understand less than _I_ do about technique, and I had to admit I was pretty careless in fighting.

Luckily Marlowe seemed reluctant to fight me, since we’d never had a problem with each other, while Daz seemed to be attempting to kill me with his tiny cold eyes.  
“If you start fighting back, we can get you in trouble—.”

“Well that’s an empty threat.” I interrupted. “For one, how humiliating would it be for the entire district to know you got your ass handed to you by Jean of all people?”

I took a step closer and it warmed my heart when he stepped away cautiously. “And secondly, you know who’ll be in trouble if you get any administration involved.” I crossed my arms sarcastically. “Hmm, _the scrawny honors band geek_ or _the flunking violent asshole_? I wonder whose side they’ll take.”

“We can just get you later, faggot.” He retorted, but I just smiled at him. Like hearing faggot was supposed to offend me. These guys were pathetic.

“And Mikasa can get you later. Now we’re both scared.”

It was laughable watching the fear sift through his face. Yet he still tried to jab at me. “S-so you’re just going to hide behind a little _girl,_ Jaeger?”

I grabbed the collar of his shirt—God, he was even grosser up close— and returned, “Sure, if I don’t feel like kicking your ass myself. Because unlike you, I don’t give a shit about some ‘reputation’.”

He shut his mouth again as the big kid got up, looking very hateful of me. But I didn’t give a shit what they thought. I didn’t mind having animals for enemies.

“Whatever.” Daz grunted, barely keeping from whimpering. “Kirschtein’s not always gonna have his little bitches to protect him—”

“Get the fuck out of here.” I growled, shoving him away. He stumbled, and finally the trio of dillholes rushed out a little too eagerly.

I exhaled and let my shoulders relax. _The only reason I won that is because I have an IQ at least higher than a lima bean._

“Well...you got yourself out of that easily.”

I swiveled around to Jean, who was sitting on the ground, clutching his stomach and staring at me.

I knelt down in front of him. “Eh, give props to Armin. He taught me how to confuse idiots by using words with more than two syllables."

Jean met my gaze with many emotions swirling in his darkened eyes. I really couldn’t tell whether he was mad at me or grateful or confused. Maybe a mix of the three. Either way he looked in pain. He didn’t look too hurt, even though he took quite a few punches to the stomach and a good one in the cheek. I had a feeling the words were harder for him to take than the hits.

“You all right?” I asked him, hoping I masked how concerned I actually was.

“What was that for?” He demanded, completely ignoring my question. “Why’d you get into it?”

“Are you serious?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “You didn’t come back for 4th quarter and I had to fucking find you. And _ooh_.” I mused. “I was _totally_ supposed to leave you to get beat up by three guys. Yeah. _Toootally_.”

I paused and waited for Jean to answer, and when he didn’t I sighed. “My question is why the hell did _you_ get involved with them? Daz is the biggest shithead in the world. Why were you alone with him?”

“I didn’t want to be.” Jean objected. “Do you think I’m stupid? Daz saw me when I was dragged to the concession stand with Sasha and Connie. He told me he wanted to ‘chat’. I left ‘cause I didn’t want those idiots Sasha and Connie to get involved.”

The silence between us was filled with the crowd cheering and our band playing the fight song. Luckily after the three stooges left people stopped looking. I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t have gone, but I knew he wouldn’t understand. And I knew I would’ve done the same thing. Because it was about his own pride. It was about proving yourself not a coward. And sometimes it’s too prove it to yourself.

“And you didn’t want to run away from it.” I confirmed. Jean frowned at me, but the daggers of his glare weren’t as sharp as usual. Something was weakened about it, and I had a feeling it had to do with who that asshole had the audacity to mention. I could’ve beaten him into the ground for that. But Jean didn’t know I heard that part.  
“I don’t want a lecture, Jaeger.” He murmured. “Just forget about it.”

“But they’ve pushed you around since middle school! Don’t you want to get them to stop?” I urged. “They had no right to say what they did, especially about him.”

Jean realized what I was referring to and looked away sheepishly. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

He pressed his lips together and ran a hand through his hair. Finally, “Well, they aren’t going to stop, ‘cause they’re right, you know that?”

Jean winced as he tried to stand. I stood and offered him a hand, but he just stared at it.

“Someone’s always protecting me.” He told me, leaning his head back against the brick wall. “I need to face them myself, Eren.”

“No you don’t.” I countered, grabbing his wrist and forcefully hauling him on his feet. “Who gives a crap if they think you’re a chicken shit or something. They don’t matter.”

Jean watched me for a moment, maybe thinking of something to say or holding back his response, but he simply sighed, turning so I could see his defined profile.

“Can we act like this didn’t happen?”

“Yeah I guess.” I rolled my shoulders. “At least if no one notices.”

He shut his eyes and groaned. “Shit, is it gonna bruise?”

I raised my arm and put my fingers against his cheek where he was hit. I tried to do so gently, but he still flinched at the touch. His skin felt warm and smooth.

“It might.” I decided, my hand lingering. “But Daz also sucks. Did it hurt?”

“N-not really.” Jean muttered quickly, and I realized how close I’d gotten to him. I pulled my hand away so fast I almost whacked him.

“Okie dokie!” I squeaked— _Okie dokie? Am I fucking twelve?_ —“Let’s just head back. We’re really late.”

“Yeah...” Jean agreed slowly, and we started walking back. I was trying to think of a good excuse that didn’t include breaking up/getting into a fight when Jean mumbled, “And um, for back there...thanks...I guess.”

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was a first. And probably last. He wouldn’t look at me, though, so I cupped my hand over my ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“Ugh. Thanks.” Jean reiterated only a tiny bit louder.

“Banks?”

“ _Thanks_.”

“WHAT?”

“THANK YOU, YOU ASSHOLE.”

“Oh that’s it?” I smiled innocently. “ ’Welcome, I guess, but you don’t need to shout about it.”

Jean clucked his tongue. “You’re a piece of shit.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Just shut up, Jaeger.”

 

\------------------

 

By the time we were back, 4th quarter was half over. We decided on a story that Jean was throwing up in the bathroom and I’d waited for him. Erwin believed it, or at least let it off, since Jean probably didn’t look like he was doing to great anyway. We played to the end of the game where we finally (shocker) won.

We all tossed our hats up in celebration still, following a tradition we’d always done for wins. And then we performed for those who stay after (band parents) what we had so far of the competition pieces.

And wala, our first game was over with (not really how I expected it to go). We marched back to the band room and rambunctiously put things away. For some reason most kids’ energy had not dwindled.

Armin and Connie went home with their parents, so Sasha only took Mikasa, Jean and I home. We were all tired and sweaty—Except Sasha, who seemed to have plenty of energy left over.

“Do you guys wanna do anything?” She offered excitedly as we made it out of the crowded parking lot. “The night is young!”

The three of us made groans of displeasure in reply.

Mikasa went first, and I’m pretty sure she fell asleep on the two minute drive to her house. I stepped out of the vehicle so Mikasa could get out, and she grumbled a goodbye to  
me.

“Get some sleep, Mikasa.” I told her. “We have an extended practice tomorrow.”

She nodded and yawned, waving her hand as she disappeared into her house. She wasn’t good for conversation at all when she was tired.

I jumped back into the car and she drove to Jean’s place, which I found out was only about a minute from mine. He grumbled a thank you and stepped out without a word. I wondered if he was letting what those guys said get to him. He hadn't been that talkative since that.

And after dropping him off, Sasha pulled her jeep up to my house.

“See ya tomorrow, Jaeger bombastic!” Sasha sang as I opened the car door.

“Later.” I replied tiredly, immediately rushing over to my front door. I couldn’t wait to take off these clothes and get a shower and crawl into bed...Hell, maybe I’ll just take a shower in the morning...

But the house wasn’t empty as I’d expected. The kitchen lights were on. So my parents _were_ home? I thought they said they couldn’t make it...  
That was right. My fatigue wore off as I remembered my dad’s foreboding text message: That they wanted some kind of family talk after the game.  
As I thought, when I shut the door and made my way into the kitchen, my parents were sitting at the oak table across from each other. They looked up at me with happy expressions, concealing solemn ones.

“Hi, sweetie,” My mom smiled weakly. Her black hair looked frizzier than usual, her eyes dark and weary. She was still wearing her waitress uniform. “How was the game?”

“We won.” I briefed. “What is this about? What happened?”

“Nothing really, son.” My dad assured me, but he didn’t sound sure. He took off his glasses and cleaned them off on his dark suit. “This is just something that...well, we haven’t told you yet so we decided it was time...”

“Now?” I said, kicking off my sneakers. “Why the heck now? I wanna go to bed.”

“It shouldn’t take too long, honey...” Mom said. “Why don’t you sit...”

 _What's with them?_ “I don’t want to.” _Their tones are weird._ “What happened?” _I don't like this._

They were silent, looking at each other as if waiting for the other to speak. The tension hung stiffly in the air. This wasn’t feeling like a family talk. It seemed distant and quiet. This felt like a suspenseful business meeting.

One about to go horribly wrong.

But finally the cold hush was broken by my father.

“Eren,” He started, his voice low and soft. “Your mother and I...”

I waited.

“Your mother and I are getting a divorce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo this mediocre-slow-not-so-slow-build crap is almost over! I've SERIOUSLY been looking forward to next chapter since i frEAKING STARTED THIS hella hella can't wait to post it! (I want to start updating on Sundays, so expect it then)  
> And as always, thank you so much for kudos and comments I love all of you 5ever


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren's parents are getting a divorce, and they're telling him this now? And after all this, Eren gets an unexpected phone call that makes his night a helluva lot longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, early update? Yah.  
> If you would like to know why, it's because I READ THE FREAKING FIC "THE INTERN" AND IT'S RECENT UPDATE MADE ME INCONSOLABLE DO NOT READ THAT FIC IF YOU DONT WANT YOUR HEART CRUSHED LIKE A GRAPE.
> 
> Ahem, anyway, I've been hella looking forward to this chapter, in fact they weren't supposed to take eight chapters to get to it....but whateve. Hope you enjoy!

I’d ignored the fact I couldn’t remember the last time they said ‘I love you’.

I ignored the fact neither of them cared to eat dinner together. I ignored the fact I’d heard them arguing long into the night. I ignored the fact my father often slept in the guest room. I ignored the fact I haven’t seen them show any affection whatsoever since I’d started high school.

No held hands, no brushed shoulders, not a hug, not a kiss. Not even on the cheek.

But that devastating word made each detail hit me like a train.

The first thing I did? I laughed. Pretty awkwardly, too. My parents watched me with concern written on their faces, unsure how to react. I paced out of the dining area and grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge.

“Are...you kidding?” I asked, leaning against the white counter tops. “You’re joking. Right?”

“Eren,” My father began anxiously, fiddling with his thumbs laced over the table. “This isn’t...This is serious.”

Silence again. Dense and uneasy. I wet my lips, waiting for them to speak. They wouldn’t meet my gaze. The water in my bottle vibrated from my fingers tapping harshly into the counter.

“Well, say something, then.” I burst out. “Are you going to explain yourselves?”

My mother pursed her lips, hugging her shoulders tensely. “Your father has other plans. He has his own career to be channeling his time in. We planned to wait until after you graduated high school, but...” She paused. “His work has decided for him to move early. He has to leave by September.”

“So this is some little organized secret you’ve been keeping from me?” I spat, feeling the anger rising in me too rapidly. “And move him early? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve been ready to travel out to California.” My father explained placidly. “For work. I didn’t want to burden you with this.”

“So what?” I felt my hands curling into fists. “Are you having us move?”

“No. I’m going alone. You’ll be staying with your mother.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “So, for your surgeon shit you’re moving out west. Okay. What the hell does this have to do with your marriage?”

“Eren—”

“You guys don’t need to divorce for this!” I continued. “Both of you can move, what’s the problem? I’ll be fine; I could move in with Armin or something...”

My father’s eyes darkened. “Eren, that’s not the problem—”

“Then what is?” I probed. “You’re married! Moving to California won’t change your feelings.”

They glanced nervously toward each other. I paused.

“You...You guys do care about each other...D-don’t you?”

“O-of course, son...” said Grisha, but I could hear the dissonance on his tongue. “But...things change, Eren. You’re mother and I...our feelings aren’t the same as before.”

“So you don’t.” I translated, my gaze lowering as my voice trembled. “You never loved each other?”

“That’s not true!” My mom denied quickly. “We...did. Once.”

“Then you can again!”

“It’s not that easy, Eren!” She snapped. “Not everything can last forever.”

My face slackened as I stared at her, my eyes stretched wide. My heart was aching from this being slammed on me. I felt lied to. Betrayed, even. How could they have kept this from me for so long? At the very least, how did I never notice?

Grisha sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Eren. It’ll be hard for you to understand, being young—”

“Don’t you _dare_ give me that shit.” I scoffed, the words dripping with spite.

“Eren!” Mom chastised. “Don’t talk to your father that way.”

“No!” I argued. “You guys can’t throw this at me and say “Oh, he’s too young. He doesn’t understand.” I understand just fine when people are being assholes feeding me bullshit! Don’t just write me off as a dumbass kid!”

“Eren, calm down!” my father stood from his chair, making a loud scrape against the kitchen tile. “I will not tolerate this tone. Just sit down so we can talk about this rationally.”

“Fuck you.” I cursed, turning away towards the staircase. Grisha grabbed my shoulder as I passed but I smacked him away. “Why wait a week, _dad?_ Go ahead and leave right now. I don’t want to live with a fucking liar.”

“Eren Jaeger! Get back here!” My mother called, but I raced up the stairs and slammed shut my bedroom door. I leaned against it, shutting my eyes. I tried taking deep breaths, but blood pounded in my ears, my head hurting from confusion and anger. My entire body quaked out of weariness.

I slid down to the floor and sat there until I no longer heard them arguing. When they finally seemed to be asleep, I snuck out of my room and showered, wishing I could cry as the hot water pierced my skin. But my eyes were dry. I was still shocked by the whole situation. All I wanted was to puke from the nausea I was getting. Because it was real, this was happening.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and flopped on to my bed. I swung my arm over my eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

Tired, but can’t sleep. How could I, after my fucking parents laid on me some of the worst news they could possibly give me? _“Hey son, forgot to mention we’re destroying your senior year and what’s left of your home life. Oopsie.”_

Maybe I should talk to Armin. He could always make me feel better. I knew he could at least get me thinking about something else.

I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and texted him:

_Hey, are you still awake? I need to talk to you._

And I waited. Chances were, he wasn’t. It’d been a long night anyway, and everyone was tired by the end of the game. I would try to message Mikasa, but I had a feeling she needed more rest than anyone. And I didn’t really want to tell anyone other than them.

So I stared up my phone, waiting for a response. The silence in my room became deafening. I wanted to hear something nice. Something that wasn’t the stinging memory of my parents’ raised voices. Maybe I’d turn on some music. Music usually made me feel better. I’d play my guitar, since it was sitting in the corner of my room gathering dust, but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I felt no desire to do anything.

Then finally, my phone went off. However, it wasn’t the short text tone, but instead the default ascending ring of a phone call. I shot up from my lying down position and grabbed my phone again with relief, expecting it to be a call from Armin. Maybe he sensed it was important.

But it wasn’t Armin. It was the last person I expected and my relief melted into confusion.

The caller ID read: _Horse face_.

Jean was calling me? Why the hell; it was almost midnight! It took me a moment to remember why we even had each others' numbers (section leader had to have everyone’s numbers in case of absences).

Deciding to stop thinking about it, since I’d miss the call, I jabbed the green answer button.

“Jean?” I said. I heard him take in a breath on the other line. He sounded strange, but I couldn’t think of the term to describe it. Distressed?

“Hi.” He replied in a hushed tone. “Sorry…I–I wanted to talk to someone…I wasn’t sure who to call…”

“You wanted to talk to someone?” I repeated, in a way he could probably hear me rolling my eyes. Why’d it have to be _me_? I am not in the mood for his mumbo jumbo. “Why couldn’t you wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Uh...” He seemed hesitant to answer, as if he was regretting this call. Then he asked in a whisper,

“Do you think it’s my fault?”

His fault?

My memory immediately flashed back to the fight today, when Daz and his goons tried to bully him. And what Daz had claimed to be Jean’s fault. Oh shit.

“What is?” I asked, needing the confirmation. I gripped my phone tighter.

“I…” Jean’s voice cracked. “Is it my fault Marco died? You’re always honest with me…”

I left a silence as the gravity of this sunk in. Damn, this was not my fucking day.

“What?” I responded snappily, a surge of anger flooding over me, but it wasn’t directed at him. “There is no way it was! Jean, you don’t need to be thinking about what those assholes said.”

“But what if they’re right?” Jean argued, his words shaking like he was close to tears. “You don’t know what happened exactly…It was my fault...And then…Shit Eren, I don’t know what to do…”

Shit. What was _I_ supposed to do now? Tell him to go to sleep while he’s having a fucking breakdown? Get my parents? I wasn’t good at dealing with these things. I can’t console people. And especially not over the phone.

“Jean, listen to me.” I demanded, interrupting him. “It’s not your fault. Here, I’ll…Let me come over; you live close. Will that help?”

Jean was silent and then said, “No…No you don’t need to...Why would you, anyway?”

It was 12:04. My parents certainly wouldn’t want me to go out. But fuck them. I needed to piss them off anyway. Jean needed someone right now, and for some freaking reason he’d called me.

A part of me did want to tell him he was fine and to go back to sleep, but the images of him taking pills kept echoing through my head. I knew nothing about his problems. But what if they _were_ worse? I had an idea of what depressed people did.Was he really depressed? _What if he started hurting himself?_ The thought of him putting a blade to his own skin...I felt sick. I didn’t give a crap if he said not to.

“Jean, hold tight. I’m coming over…Wait a few minutes, all right?” I told him, trying to keep my voice low and casual. He was quiet, but I hoped he nodded or something. He called me, he was going to face the consequences.

My bastards of parents are just gonna have to suck it up if they find out.

I pulled on a hoodie (thank god it was cool at night) and padded swiftly down the stairs. I was going to take my car, but I knew my Dad would hear me pulling out. So instead, I ran into the garage and pulled out my bike. I hadn’t used it since I got my license, but it was a good thing I kept it. I swiped dust off the handlebars and seat.

Swinging my leg over the bar, I rushed onto the road. For the first and likely last time, I praised God that Jean lived close. I was too tired for a long trip on a damn bicycle.

I regretted the fact I hung up the phone. For some reason I felt horribly worried. But then again, why wouldn’t I? Jean Kirschtein just called Eren Jaeger, a guy he loathed eternally, for comfort. He definitely had to be in a bad place to shoot that low.

After biking rapidly through the empty streets, I pulled my bike to the side of his large property. His house was very nice looking, and left me wondering what the heck his dad did for a living to afford it along with a place in Trost. I hid my bike under a big oak tree, and strode towards the house.

I wasn’t sure where to go, so I was heading for the front door before I noticed the upstairs. I saw a dim light from a second story window, the only light on in the house. I took out my phone and called him back.

“Hey,” I said as he answered, “I’m here; what room is yours? Your house is big.”

“What?” He asked, but then I watched his outline appear in the window, spotting me. I felt like I should start reciting Shakespeare into the phone, looking down at me with light breaking over his silhouette. I had to suppress my sigh of relief, though. He looked okay, at least physically. He answered sullenly into the phone, “I can’t really do anything, idiot. The doors have alarms on them at night.”

“That’s inconvenient.” I said, pondering what we could do. Then, I spotted a tree by his window, just tall enough to reach it. I pointed at it and added, “But _that’s_ convenient.”

He heaved a sigh into the speaker, but I took that as a yes.

I hung up and while lacking the proper experience, started up the tree. I planted my feet on clefts and branches that slipped with night dew and I pulled myself up until I was eye to eye to Jean in his window. For an instant we just looked at each other.

“Why the hell are you here, Jaeger?” Jean huffed, but the malice wasn’t backing up his words today. It sounded empty.

“I’d rather talk when I’m not in a tree.” I managed, and then, of fucking course, my foot slipped. I yelped in a voice I wasn’t proud of, but Jean surged forward and caught me around my waist. For a moment I was dangling in the air with him as my only staple, and I clung my arms around his neck tightly, utterly terrified. After the immediate shock, he pulled me into his orderly room, but he kept his arms wrapped around my waist.

“Sorry.” He spoke in a husky voice, muffled by my hoodie. It bothered the hell out of me he wasn’t laughing and calling me a dumbass for almost falling out of a tree. It was wrong.

“S’ok.” I murmured, feeling his elevated heartbeat through his cotton tee. I tried not to think about my own heartbeat accelerating even more. He smelled nice, like he recently took a shower, and I was enveloped into his scent. I kept my arms curled around his neck, feeling the same resistance to let go that he had. This was actually the first time I’d ever held him, even remotely like this.

But then Jean tensed and pulled away, shaking his head. “But what the hell? You didn’t need to come over...I don’t think…”

“What?” I snapped. “You expected me to just tell you ‘sleep it off’? After you called me in the middle of the night about something like this, I wasn’t supposed to be worried?”

He stared at me and I added, “Come on, I know I’m an ass, but I’m not that bad.”

He still just looked at me, his ochre eyes searching my gaze. I couldn’t see much of his face in the dim light, but he looked a little less tense. “You’re worried?”

My ears heated up. “Um, well, yeah.” I managed awkwardly. “I mean we-well if anyone had called like that ya know I’d—”

Jean gave me a weak smile. “All right, all right. I get it. Don’t hurt yourself.”

I tried to glace around the spacious room, noticing the mass of rock band and musical posters coloring his white-washed walls. Besides his bed the only furniture was a dresser and desk with a black bookshelf littered with more CDs than books. He had a small electric piano off to the side in a dormer with sheet music scattered about, accounting for the only unorganized area of his room. I wondered how often he played it. I’d tried piano before, but for some reason my fingers never got the hang of it. I was much more successful at trumpet and guitar.

Jean sat down on his bed, leaning against the black headboard. He curled into his knees. What was this? I hated seeing this. Jean was always acting so confident and cocky. But here…He looked so broken and vulnerable. And the thought kept crossing my mind: What if that confidence was just a mask? Was this guy consumed with anguish and worry the real him?

“I know I should’ve gotten over it…” He groaned. “But God, I just wish it didn’t happen. So much.”

Right. Marco was the reason here. Jean was hurting again because of him. I didn’t know what to say. I never dealt with any major tragedies, or major changes in my life for that matter. The biggest change I actually had was when Jean left in middle school.

“Hey...” I started softly. “Could I ask—why would Daz try to say it was your fault? That...”

“Marco died.” Jean said, and it was one of the first times I’d fully heard that from him. He sighed and rubbed his head.

“It is my fault, Jaeger. He wasn’t just trying. The day...the day it happened, well, Marco came over to pick me up, ‘cause we’d planned to hang out that day. But I’d learned that he lied to me about going to a party, blah blah blah, I was pissed off. I accused him of not actually, you know, liking me or whatever.” He wet his thin lips in a pause. “It was stupid. Really stupid. But Marco denied it, saying I was his best friend out of all of them. That I mattered most.

“That...” Jean hesitated, and looked down at the key around his neck, grasping it delicately in his hand. “That was when he gave me this, actually. He said I could have it, because it was important to him and he wanted to show that I was important to him, too.”

He hesitated and I asked timidly, “So what happened?”

Jean smiled grimly, with a painful self-hatred buried in his hollow eyes.

“I threw it back at him. I was a little shit; I really didn’t get it. After that, I told him to go home, because I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to be friends with a liar.”

He shut his eyes, as if reliving the scene all over again. “And so he left. And that...” He inhaled slowly. “That was the last time I ever saw him.”

I had nothing I knew to say. To know he’d never have closure, never get to tell Marco he didn’t mean it, that he was sorry...That had to be one of the worst tortures I could imagine.

“Don’t you get it?” He continued, his voice heavy. “If I didn’t...If I hadn’t been a selfish jerk then, things would’ve turned out differently. They would’ve turned the other direction; they wouldn’t have gotten in that accident. Even if they did, I would’ve been there. Maybe I would’ve gone instead of him.”

Jean finally looked at me again, but I felt like he wasn’t actually seeing me. He lamented, “Sometimes, I just…beg the world to switch it. Marco was loved, and everyone liked him…I’m nothing. He was so nice, and I’m an ass. I deserve to die. Not him.”

I stared at him, absolutely speechless.

_I deserve to die._

“I just want to trade it. I’m worthless, why wasn’t I the one who—”

“Shut up!” I snapped, momentarily forgetting I had to be quiet. I grabbed his shoulders and met his gaze forcefully.

“You are not worthless, Jean, or unimportant, or nothing, or any of that shit.” I demanded, practically shaking him. “I don’t give a shit what some people think of you. And living is an important thing, don’t ever start rejecting it. You’re alive for a reason, Jean.”

I took a breath, trying to keep from raising my voice. “Don’t ever say you deserve to die. You don’t, okay? Whatever you want me to do to prove you’re worth something, I’ll do it.”

Jean watched my face with widened eyes, and I pulled myself off of him, standing beside his bed. He turned his face away like he was ashamed, and I started feeling even worse. Good job Eren Jaeger. You get the I-made-someone-who-feels-like-shit-feel-shitter award. Congrats.

I sat down and scooted beside him, hearing the mattress squeak from the movement. His complexion looked ghostly and beautiful in the pale blue light of his desk lamp. “To be honest, I can’t say I know how you feel or any of that crap. And I get that my opinion doesn’t really matter...but I know that you…”

My voice trailed off as I searched for the right word, and he frowned at me. “I what?”

“You deserve more, Jean.” I murmured. “You don’t deserve being upset about it. Marco…I didn’t know him well, but he wouldn’t want this. And don’t think for a second Marco wouldn’t be this upset too, if you were gone.

“And a lot of people would be really sad.” I added, wondering whether these were the things to say to comfort him. How the hell do you comfort?? “The whole band would be depressed. Your parents, Sasha and Connie, your friends at Trost...Mikasa too, she actually thinks you’re pretty cool. A-and Armin would be a mess…Hell, I would be...”

“You?” Jean derided with an amused expression. “Is that a joke?”

Fuckity, my face felt hot again. “Well…What am I supposed to do without some bastard to correct all the time?”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I know.” I agreed. But then I blurted, “I would miss you though. Just…Don’t keep thinking like this. Also, it’s not your fault, get that fucked up thought out of your head. You have no idea what would’ve happened. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But—”

“And if it is your fault, if you’re really set on that...” I leaned closer beside him, seizing his startled gaze and neither of us could drop it.

“Forgive yourself.” I ordered, my voice low. “You deserve it.”

Jean raised his eyebrows, but he took in the words soundlessly, finally dropping his dark eyes to his hands resting over his knees.

I meant it, too. Jean had to stop beating himself up. He was so afraid, he couldn’t let go. Jean was a—okay, snotty and stubborn as hell, but honest, resolute, talented person. Even though I didn’t have the bond with him like with Armin—far from it—I felt I could trust him. Yes, if I told him some little secret, he’d probably blackmail me, but actually use said blackmail? No, not if it had consequences. Jean had more class than that, he'd do his own thing to get back at me. And he empathized with others, understood others, on a level way above my own.

On some deeper level, he was...important to me. Somehow, he’d actually really distracted me from my own problems. The two problems that suddenly threw at me they were getting a divorce. But, Jean’s company was more comfortable than I would’ve expected, despite my disdain. We were both troubled and alone right now, but I didn't feel so alone with him. It was like being alone together.

I tentatively put an arm around him, pulling him closer. He chuckled.

"Is this comfort, Jaeger?" asked Jean with a haughty grin.

"Shut your face." I bit back, but Jean surprisingly leaned into the touch, resting his head on my shoulder quietly, setting aside anymore sneers. I felt the tips of his soft light hair brushing my lips. His body was warm against mine in the cooled air. The scent of summer night hung in the room with the smell of Jean’s coconut shampoo. I drew circles into his shoulder, his breath on my collar making me melt.

I decided I wouldn’t mention this to anyone, not even Armin. I understood how personal this problem was for Jean, how much he kept it hidden. This was a layer he didn’t like people seeing because he’d feel weak, and that left people taking advantage of him. That’s why he acted so confident. I knew because I’ve done the same thing. I guess I’d always been frustrated because I never knew he was masking himself like I was.

What I still didn’t understand was why had he been okay with letting me in? Did he trust me not to take advantage of him, like others would? Why me? Of all the people in the world, he wanted me to help. Me, the brown-nosed dillhole, the infuriating dumbass, the insufferable jerk-off. Why would he trust me?

“Don’t you hate me?” I whispered out loud on accident. I put my hand over my mouth, but fortunately, it didn’t matter. I heard a quiet snore; Jean fell asleep. I sighed in relief as I listened to him; the soft noise was much more bearable than his regular voice. Cute, almost. Okay. It was cute. And I hated that it was.

I was supposed to hate him, too, wasn’t I? I thought I had all this time, but did I? Before, when I looked back at middle school, I only saw our arguments and his annoying grin when he mocked me, or his glare when I mocked him. But now…I saw how often we walked to class together, despite our feud. I remembered how upset I felt when other people made fun of him. But wasn’t that because it was my job to make him feel stupid?

But I can’t lie to myself past that. Because no matter how much I buried it, I remembered watching Jean walk through the halls, solemn and alone. No one helped with his stuff. Not once did he snicker at me then, or even glare at me. He had looked absolutely broken, and I’d hated it. I wanted to talk to him. I didn’t know why, but I wanted him to be an asshole again. Maybe I just didn’t like change?

Stop lying to yourself, a voice kept telling me. You know exactly why you didn’t like it.

Had I really cared about him from the start?

Jean unconsciously tucked himself closer to me and I had to ignore all urges to hold him closer. To kiss his temple or cheek. All that time fighting, yelling, even when we met in elementary, was that my own mask? He would make me nervous, and I hated that. His cheerful smile made my heart leap, so I made sure I never saw it. Maybe I had been the first one to act like a jerk. But it didn’t matter, because he moved. I didn’t have to worry anymore, and forgot it completely.

But now he was back, and my walls were crumbling. I couldn’t let that keep happening. Even if I didn’t hate him, that didn’t change his feelings toward me. He hated me, and if he didn’t in the first place, I made sure he did. Who knew why he called me for help tonight. It was pointless.

I had been thinking I’d better go back home soon, but I didn’t want to wake Jean. And with the calming breeze flowing through the window and Jean’s warmth beside me, I felt increasingly drowsy. Before I knew it, I fell asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye. It's all up hill from here! ...hopefully. Sorry if its poopy but whateve, next chapter you guys get to see a character we all know and love! And actually if you like eren/levi fics, you should definitely read "The Intern", it's beautifully written and intriguing and angsty.
> 
> (One last thing, i'd like to mention that the song "Alone Together" by Fall out Boy is this chapter's theme, and kinda the song that inspired the whole fic) 
> 
> Thanks for comments, reading, kudos, everything I love you guys you really keep me going with this!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean wakes up with a boy in his bed and is rather baffled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly dont know what to being saying today besides damn is my writing style inconsistent  
> whateve please enjoy!

**Jean**

 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you say behind my back. To your _friends_.”

He stared at me, suddenly dumbfounded by my words. His freckled cheeks red from not only the cold outside, but frustration, however that anger began breaking into confusion. “What are you even talking about, Jean?”

“That you think I’m a freak! That I take pills that I hate taking to get through the stupid week, ‘cause I’m a freak. If not I’m an attention desperate fake, _of course_.”

“Jean—”

“That I’m so annoying, that you probably just wish I’d stop hanging around you all the time like the _freak_ I am!”

“Jean...That’s not...why...”

“You probably wish I was dead, don’t you.” I continued, ignoring the sting of frustrated tears at the corners of my eyes. Why am I doing this? He couldn’t hate me...he couldn’t...but everyone’s words won’t get out of my head, that he was just ‘too nice’ to tell me to fuck off. My thoughts wouldn’t clear. I felt so betrayed, that he’d lied to me, that after all this time he could...

“Well maybe I hate you, too, huh?” I couldn’t stop the severe words from escaping my stupid mouth. “Maybe I wish _you_ were dead!”

Marco watched my expression—the anger, betrayal, hurt—with absolute pain. Guilt. Maybe he felt bad that I could even think this...

“Jean...you don’t...” Marco’s words kept failing him. “I’ve never...I’ve _never_ felt like that. Who have you been listening to?”

“Does it matter? Everyone says it!”

“They don’t matter, then!” His voice rose unexpectedly, and then with a sigh he reached under his winter coat and pulled off his necklace—the one with the key on the end.

“You see this, Jean?” Marco said, the key shining in his hand. “This means a lot to me. You know that. So you can have it.”

He tossed it and I barely caught it in my hand. I squinted at him. “Why?” I spoke. _Why am I doing this._

“To prove that you’re important to me.” He said, the pitch of his voice gracing on hopeful, hopeful he would be forgiven, hopeful he could convince me. “You’re...you’re my best friend, Jean.” His words shook as they left his lips. “Why would I hate you? Why would I call you a freak? I...Jean, I love—”

“Don’t give me that.” I grumbled, throwing the key back. _Marco’s hurting now, Jean. You’re hurting him, Jean._ My hands trembled. “You don’t.” _Why am I doing this?_ “Why would you care about me when you have everyone— _everyone_ else?” Was this some shitty jealousy? Was I taking out my pain on him? Why?

He only watched me again, the rejection and hurt plain on his freckled face. Hurt I put there. “Just go home, Marco. I...” I tried to calm my voice, but I couldn’t. “I’m not in the mood. Leave me alone.”

“But Jean—”

“Just go!” I repeated, more directly and harshly.

We glared at each other for a second, a second that felt like infinite, and Marco pressed his lips together, blinked hard and dropped the key on the hardwood floor. The clatter rang in my ears, but I didn’t look at it.

“You can keep it.” Marco declared, opening the door. “Do what you want with it. I’m trusting you.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He simply watched my face one more—one last—time. The frustration, anger, all of that, was replaced by none other than misery.

I usually understood other people. But Marco was someone who understood me. He didn’t write off my pain as symptoms of my mental health, like my father and other friends. And he understood me, even now, but I was in so much pain. I was so tired of people bullying me, telling me those lies, forcing me to believe Marco hated me, when they didn’t matter.

When I needed someone, Marco was always there. Sometimes I would take things out on him, vent to him, act like a spoiled brat, but he always stood by me. Supporting me. And I loved him for that. And he’d loved me.

And I never had the chance to thank him for that.

\------------

The bright sun glaring through the window woke me before my alarm could go off. Daybreak had lit my room more easily than a torch. Something was different this morning though...Ugh, I couldn’t think clearly yet.

I blinked sleep out of my eyes, but when I tried to move my arm it tingled from a heavy weight over it. And why did I feel like there was a fucking furnace beside me?

I turned my head and quickly discovered the answer to my inquiry.

Eren Fucking Jaeger was asleep beside me.

In my bed.

Eren was in my bed.

What the hell was Eren doing in my bed? Why the hell was I sleeping with Eren? Do I panic? Wake him up? Yell inarticulately?

I shot up and stared at him, feeling a warm knot of nervousness in the pit of my stomach. My groggy consciousness took its sweet time in reminding me that Eren had come to my house yesterday after for I’d ended up panicked about the accident again. I had known I had to talk to someone, but everyone who cared was always on their toes around me, waiting anxiously for me to slip up. Everyone I knew would freak and think there’s something erroneous with me again.

Eren was supposed to be the exception of those people, because I can always talk to him regardless of our feud, but he wasn’t. He went out of his way in the middle of the night just to attempt to support me. He was always full of damn surprises. But I didn’t mind it. Not with him. What had come over him? And what had come over me?

And God, I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep with him. Dammit, did we _cuddle_? I refuse to define this as _cuddling_. I did not _cuddle_ with Jaeger. We only slept on a single bed in close proximities. Ugh, but that doesn’t help; I haven’t even _slept_ with someone before now.

My arm was around his waist and my head had been against his shoulder. His purple sweatshirt had rode up to reveal his slender midriff. Eren snored softly with the calmest expression I’d ever seen on his sun kissed face, his silky dark hair caressing pink tinted cheeks. His tender red lips were parted slightly.

Dammit, he was gorgeous.

I ran a hand through my hair and heaved a sigh, lying back down. I was too tired for this. I looked at Eren’s face again, at the little freckle by his eye, his chest moving up and down in a slow steady beat. His dimpled spine was under my fingertips, and I found myself stroking it softly, tracing the curve of his back. I felt him shudder in reply, but he was definitely still out.

I couldn’t be sure just yet, but the feeling was terrifying. Was it just this asshole, or my iffy heterosexuality running for the damn hills, who knew. But fuck if Eren’s presence didn’t make my breath hitch, and fuck if Eren’s crooked grin didn’t give me the most middle school of butterflies, and fuck if his serene face right now didn’t damn well turn me on. Eren was challenging everything I’d ever thought about my preferences. For example: you know, girls.

God damn, what was this world coming to. I was getting a shitty crush on a shitty guy I shared a quite mutual shitty hatred for. I was never gonna hear the end of this from Reiner. Although I'd have to give him props for realizing it before I could. I was slipping and falling down a slope that past the bottom and reached the darkest crevices in hell.

But, I’d be lying if there wasn’t something strangely refreshing about it. Feeling this closeness to someone, even if there was no fucking possibility of its becoming reality. I felt like someone just washed out my mind with bleach—in the nicest of ways. It was like I didn’t need any of my prescriptions; Eren left my head more clear than—well, I couldn’t even remember. Maybe I’d stay in bed for a while longer; I didn’t see why not. It was a Saturday. We had band rehearsal soon but...

That was when I heard the door open downstairs. My mom couldn’t possibly be up yet...Then the light bulb lit up over my head.

Saturday.

 _My father coming home_ Saturday.

My dad was here. And so was Eren.

“Oh shit!” I cursed, leaping up. My dad was going to be checking on me soon; he and my mom _always_ did that. He was going to walk in and see Eren...That’d be hard to explain.

The fear woke me pretty fast. I pulled my arm out from under Eren and grabbed his shoulders.

“Eren!” I hissed, shaking him. “Eren, wake up, dammit!”

“..errmm...” Eren roused, burying his face into my pillow.

My eye twitched. “God dammit, Eren. Wake up!”

“....ugh...” His eyes fluttered open slowly, the lights shining in that lustrous green and enthralling me in their half lidded mystified gaze. “...mmm...Jean...why are you...Why are you here?”

Fuck, his sleepy voice was hot. Or maybe he was just hot any time he wasn’t deriding me. I prayed it was just the rough morning drawl.  
I turned to my door, hearing the sound of someone coming up the stairs.

“You fell asleep here, idiot!” I tried to pull him up. He was practically deadweight. “Right now you gotta hide!”

“Hide...?” He yawned dazedly. “Where...”

“I don’t know; get in the closet!”

“When do I get out?”

“Seriously? I’ll tell you; just go!” I hissed, pushing him into it and shutting the door. I leaned against the door as if Eren would try to break out, just as my father entered my bedroom.

“Oh good morning Jean, you’re awake.” He noted. The man was still dressed nicely from work in Trost, his hair groomed.

“Erm...” I started awkwardly. “Yeah I’m up.”

My dad raised an eyebrow at me. “Are you all right?”

“What? Yeah.” I said, but he approached me with concern.

“Well your face is red.”

“I’m fine!” I insisted impatiently.

“All right, all right, then." He put up his hands in defeat. “I already checked with your mother. I’m going out to do some grocery shopping for you, all right?”

“Okay, thanks.” I said, grateful I wouldn't have to do it, and he finally stepped out. I waited until I heard him retreat down the stairs and called out, “All right, Eren. Get out of the closet.”

Silence.

“Eren?” I repeated, opening the closet door. He was lying down on a heap of clean, disregarded laundry, his hair fluffed out in several directions. Jesus Christ, that piss-ant went back to sleep.

I slung a pillow at top velocity towards Eren and when it made contact his whole body jolted in response.

“Hey!” He shrieked in surprise, hugging it to his belly and glaring at me with bewildered eyes. “What was that for!?”

“Wake up.” I demanded, grasping the collar of my shirt and pulling it off. I tossed the shirt aside. “We have practice soon.”

“Ugh. Fine...” Eren stood up, his voice breaking into a yawn. “Do I have time to...to...”

I felt his gaze burning into me before I even turned around. “Go home, you mean?”

“What?” He swallowed, his gaze lingering on my bare abdomen. “Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“Well, no; it’s late as it is.” I told him as I opened a drawer and dug out a clean shirt. I tried not to feel arrogant about his eyes glued to me. Although besides that I felt uncomfortable being so openly stared at. He wasn't even trying to hide it. Eren opened his mouth to protest my answer, but before he could I tossed a shirt and pair of shorts at him.

“Take those for now.” I said as he blinked at the outfit. “Do you need a shower?”

“N-no.” He stammered. “I got one last night.”

“Good.” I sighed, opening my door again. “I did too; I’m gonna go wash up.”

“All right.” Eren said, grabbing his shirt from the bottom and tugging it over his head. God. His frame was so lithe, his low shorts barely seemed to cling to his bronzed body. His skin reminded me of brewed coffee. The dip between his hipbones so prominent, made his stomach look so fragile and vulnerable...

I rushed out of the room before I stood there like a deer caught in headlights too long. I washed my face in the bathroom and observed the disgruntled man I saw in the mirror. My eyes fell to the key around my neck.

I’d tried to get rid of it, but I couldn’t. It hurts too much and it’s a piece of Marco I could always carry, despite it being a reminder of his death. It felt like a responsibility to be carrying it. I owed it to him. Marco tried to give it to me and I’d refused it; I hadn’t lied to Eren at all. In fact, I was proud I made it through, telling Eren. It was the biggest regret and only regret I really fucking cared about. I was a jerk; it was a mistake.

A mistake that simply cost too much.

 _You were Marco’s little fuck buddy, right?_ Shut the fuck up. _We were his real friends._ Shut up. _He didn’t give a shit about you._ Fucking stop. _It’s your fault he’s dead!_

Why? Why the fuck did he have to say the same thing I think every day I wake up?

But another voice demanded to be heard through that memory.

 _They don’t matter_ —He didn’t give a shit about you— _Don’t think for a second Marco wouldn’t be this upset, too_ —It’s your fault he’s dead— _It’s not your fault_ —You’re not _worthless, Jean—You’re alive for a reason, Jean—You deserve more, Jean—_

_Forgive yourself. You deserve it._

The crashing words kept pulling this way and that in my head like tug-of-war. Eren’s words were resilient, but I was still confounded by his speech. What on earth made me deserve more? Deserve forgiveness?

What the hell was that kid seeing in me to think that?

I stepped out fully dressed to find him waiting in my room, looking at the CDs on my shelf with curiosity, his beautiful teal eyes sparkling. I’d given him an old red track tee, and the fabric hung off him loosely, and damn was it cute. There was something alluring about him being in my clothes, standing there in the cloudy morning light. I had to wipe the smile off my face before he turned. Hopefully I was just giddy that I’d spent a night with him. I must’ve been just really lonely.

But seeing as how he’d been making me feel this way long before last night, I knew it was futile to believe I wasn’t falling for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awright folks. The arc of angrily-denying-feelings-for-each-other has come to a close  
> Now it is time for: angrily-chasing-after-each-other  
> And I have come to realize this fic will be longer than previously expected and i'm so so sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading and everything you guys are spectacular i love all of you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of awkward conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to update im absolute scum and i procrastinate

“You’re car isn’t as cool up close.” I noted as I opened the passenger door to Jean’s ford mustang. I was probably lying, it was still definitely way better than my cheap ass pick up truck.

It’d gotten cloudy since daybreak. Hopefully it cooled down practice; I hoped it didn’t rain, too, though.

“Did your parents buy this for you?” I asked as he started the smooth engine and pulled out of his driveway.

“It was my dad’s,” Jean replied, turning on the radio. “He gave it to me for my birthday last spring.”

“That’s generous.” I noted. “Is he having you pay anything for it?”

He scoffed. “Just gas. He practically shits money, I doubt it bothers him.”

I leaned my arm against the window. “Shits money, eh? That’s gotta be a nice problem to have.”

Jean looked away from the road to glare at me. “Don’t be a dick. I don’t mean it like—”

“I was joking.” I said quickly. I wasn’t going to be one of those jerks that don’t like people for being more successful. Honestly, it wasn’t like I was in that bad a place, either. Not as secure as Jean was, but not really a lower class either. Although, that was before I found out about my Dad leaving. I grimaced recalling the situation my parents were in. I couldn’t believe that asshole would do this to us.

“You okay?” asked Jean out of the blue.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, you just looked really disgusted for a second.” He said, turned back to the road. “Do you really hate that my Dad has a good job or—”

“No, really.” I sighed. He was so self-conscious. “It’s not...that.”

“What is it then?” Jean probed. “Car smell bad?”

I smirked. “Definitely. Smells like horse shit. Kind of like you, actually.”

It did smell like him. It just wasn’t actually a bad thing.

“I can kick you out right now, Jaeger.”

“That’d be more of a blessing.”

“Cockface, you should be thankful.”

“Nah.”

Jean cursed me and turned up Green Day on his stereo. I didn’t mind them, although I really preferred their older music. American Idiot and down. We sat their listening to the song for a while, and Jean added, “Really though, are you all right?”

“Yeah, nosy much? It’s just...” I hesitated, glancing at Jean’s cheek that was beginning to bruise. “Something that happened last night.”

Jean chewed at his lip for a moment quietly. Finally, “It’s not that I called you, is it?”

“What? No; not everything is about you, ya know.”

“So that didn’t...bother you?” Jean stopped the car at a railroad track; a train was passing. We just had to be late, didn’t we?

“No.” I answered again.

“Are you sure?” He pressed, leaning on the steering wheel. “You might get in trouble or something.”

“Should I say it in German, dude? No.” I crossed my arms. “I don’t care what my parents thought of it or anyone. I _wanted_ to be with you. So I—”

My voice faltered too late. So that accidently got too personal. Learn to shut your mouth, Eren. Jean blinked at me with a scrawled expression, caught between shock and confusion. I cleared my throat and sat back against the leather seat. “...Yeah.”

Awkward silence. It was slightly filled by Green Day’s “ _Brutal Love_ ” and the rhythmic clout of train cars fleeting by. As I watched outside my window I noticed a sprinkle of well-needed rain beginning. Band camp was going to suck today; if it rained we either marched outside in the mud without instruments or we didn’t go outside at all. I wasn’t too fond of either option.

I watched Jean shift gears and start the car again, feeling curious of his own actions. I still had yet to understand why he’d called me the night before. I recalled what I’d learned about the last time he saw his late friend, and how it left him blaming himself for it.

How could he be self-mutilating himself like that? All of this time, I never knew that it really rooted down to that. Maybe...If Jean hadn’t been fighting with him the last time he saw him, he would’ve been able to move on. But he’s been sitting on that remorse all these five years, digging him into a hole he needed to crawl out of. And he needed to do it himself.

With these thoughts infiltrating my brain, I found myself asking him, “Why’d you move back?”

The attention Jean managed while driving was a little intense; his eyes squinted and face hardened in concentration. That focus deepened as I asked the question, like he was choosing carefully how to answer.

“Well...It’d be better for my mom. She wanted to go back and I didn’t want her to be alone here.”

Once again, I was only getting pieces of the truth. But I let it go. I had to force myself not to scratch at things, like Armin told me. I’m not someone for him to talk to, anyway. Jean wouldn’t care or want me to know more about him, as much as I was interested.

“Do you miss Trost?” I said, fixing my gaze forward and watching the yellow lines on the streets.

“Sometimes.”

“Like what? The school, or people...” I snickered as a thought came to me. “You didn’t have a _girlfriend_ , did you?”

“Oh fuck you, Eren.” I didn’t have to see it to know he rolled his eyes.

“It is a dumb question.” I admitted. “No one would wanna date you.”

He clucked his tongue. “Like you’re one to talk. I’ll have you know I did date someone.”

I felt a wave of questions rise up as well as a twinge of anger. Hold the phone, was that jealousy? Oh shut up, Eren, what the heck is wrong with you?

“It wasn’t really anything serious.” Jean added before I asked about it. “Just this cheerleader named Hitch.”

“You tricked a cheerleader into dating you?” I repeated, genuinely surprised. He _was_ attractive, so going to a new school where people didn’t know him as well, he was bound to get some attention. The thought sickened me, and I couldn’t tell if I was jealous of that attention or just...jealous.

“Don’t say it like that.” Jean said with a grimace. “You make it sound like it was some kind of scheme. “And it was just for half junior year. Really, I sorta pitied her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean—there’s no sugar coating it, she could be a bitch sometimes.” Jean laughed. “But it was second nature for her; she had her good points. I didn’t actually like her, much. I stayed in the relationship because I wanted to help her out, but she just cheated on me. Figures, right?”

I smiled at him with a pinch of pity. “Harsh. I wouldn’t deal with fixer-uppers; they just use people that try to help them.”

“Hey,” Jean said as he pulled into the school parking lot, with much more grace in the turn than I usually managed. “I’d say some people are worth trying for. What if she just needs a good person to help her? She’s just dated assholes her whole life.”

“Yeah, since she dated you.”

“Screw you. But my point is, what if she really just needed someone to actually care about her?”

I shrugged indifferently. People didn’t change. If it seemed like they did, then they were faking who they were the whole time. People can seem nice and then turn out to be a complete shithead.

Jean had always seemed like a shithead. Maybe the other direction was possible too. That or I was the asshole.

“Hey Jean.” I asked as he parked his car.

“What?”

“Did you guys do it?”

His face got red with instant guilty embarrassment. “That’s off topic!”

“So you _did_.” I confirmed, eyebrows risen. Who would’ve thought Jean would lose his virginity before the rest of us? Wow.

“Shut up...” He looked away sheepishly. “I-it wasn’t that great and awkward and I didn’t even spend the night with her...God, I don’t even count it.”

“So you just dipped in the shallow end or—”

“Christ, Eren!” Jean shrieked, adorably flustered. “You’re disgusting! I mean it was...” He made a vague ‘ _ya know what I mean_ ’ gesture with his hands. “...All the way. But, I told you, I felt bad for her. She told me if I ‘didn’t want to,’ I was saying she was ‘ugly’ and ‘didn’t like her’. It’s not something I’m proud of. In fact, you’re one of the first I told. Aren’t you just fucking special.”

“You’re too easy.” I shook my head with a laugh when he finished his spiel. “I can’t believe your first time was pity.”

“Shut up. At least I’ve had mine.” Jean reminded me, getting out of the car. I tried to imagine how awkward first times must of really been, especially for someone as awkward as Jean, but that led me to picturing how Jean must of looked, flustered and red faced in the dark, half-lidded eyes, probably biting his lip like he always did...I shuddered. Dismiss it Eren. Think of anything else. Kittens. Jesus. Assassin’s Creed.

The rain had really picked up while we were in the car, and I got out of the car remorsefully, pulling up the hood of my sweatshirt.

“Shit, of all times for it to finally rain.” I whined, scowling at the sky in protest. Surely my angry glare would make it feel bad.

“Seriously.” Jean agreed, crossing his bare arms. Jean fell into step beside me, being too late for either of us to run for it. We were already soaked.

“So, what was it, by the way?” Jean asked while we crossed the muddy practice field, his voice muffled by the rain. “What happened last night, I mean. You didn’t tell me.”

My first thought was to shut him out. I hadn’t even told Armin or Mikasa yet, but he was bound to find out. It wasn’t like I needed to keep it quiet anyway.

“My parents.” I admitted. “They decided to throw on me suddenly that they’re getting a divorce and my dad’s moving out by September. It pissed me off and I...Jean?”

I turned back to see he’d stopped walking, staring at me, his eyes penetrating my own.

“Your parents are splitting?” He reiterated, a sympathy there I hadn’t seen before.

I had nothing else to really say; I nodded. “Yeah...I mean, I guess I should’ve noticed. It’s not a big dea—aaalwhat are you doing?”

Jean had surged forward and hugged me tightly. He squeezed me against his chest in a not-so-squeezy way. Despite the rain making our clothing stiff and skin drenched, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I wanted it to be. In fact, I wanted the embrace to last longer. It reminded me of when I almost fell out of the tree last night, and he’d saved me from falling. But this was so much more voluntary. And suddenly he was the one comforting me.

“Nothing...Just let me do this.” He told me, his warm minty breath against my ear and keeping his arms firm around me.

Rain cascaded around us. How romantic. My heart seemed to think this was a good time for strenuous exercise. I tried to focus on other things; the misty tennis courts, Jean’s scent, the dulled sky, Jean’s hair tickling me, the soaked grass by my feet, Jean’s calloused hands on the small of my back.

I returned the hug reluctantly, and I felt myself understand and relax. He was getting that this sucked. It sucked and I had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal that my parents were divorcing. Cause that’s what teenagers always did right? Their feelings weren’t valid. Divorce is a ‘big people problem’ and ‘you kiddies can’t understand’. Jean was trying to give me a break from that. And that felt nice.

“You know...” I started, keeping my head on his shoulder. “We could’ve had this lovely embrace out of the fucking rain—”

Jean groaned, letting me go with a roll of the eyes. “Just gotta ruin everything, don’t you?”

What did he even mean by that?

He ran a hand through his sopping hair in attempt to fix it. It only managed to make in messier and cute. “It was in the moment.”

“What moment?”

“That one. Shut up. Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that.”

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “You’re just a fucking dork.”

“Oh, go to hell, Eren.”

We stumbled into the band room, soaked to the bone, to find everyone ready in their seats. It didn’t look like practice had started yet though. I caught Armin’s big curious eyes across the room, but I just gave him a tell-you-later wave.

Not that many other people got caught in the rain, so thank you Mother Nature, you useless celestial being, for making it obvious Jean and I arrived later. I squeezed some of the water out of my shirt along with Jean, and finally gave up and wriggled out of the dripping hoodie, tossing it next to the percussion area. It didn’t match my red shirt anyway.

Erwin decided rehearsal would simply continue inside until the rain stopped, if it did. It was just going to mean chapped lips and longer sectionals with the extremely immature trumpets. I wished Levi were there, since he managed to terrify everyone into playing at full potential.

I was vaguely aware of everyone’s stares burning into my back as I walked to my seat with my trumpet in hand, but it wasn’t until we had a break from rehearsal I knew why:

“Yo, Eren, are you wearing Jean’s shirt?” Connie had asked when our little group sat together to steal Sasha’s snacks. I bristled with immediate denial.

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

Sasha giggled, with pringles hanging out of her mouth. “Your shirt says “Kirschtein” on the back.”

Shit.

Jean gave me a shirt with his name on it? I felt the heat on my face swell up faster than the speed of light, with along with the bitter tastes of anger, shame, betrayal, and absolute fear. Sasha and Connie’s smug little faces, they had the wrong idea. Mikasa and Armin were trying and failing to hold back matching grins. Wrong idea. So wrong, wrong, wrong, I mean we did sleep together—but that wasn’t the point.

I gave a deadly glare to Jean, thinking he’d given me a shirt with his name on it on purpose, but I met a face that mirrored the same utter mortification I had. He was just as horrified. We were screwed. So screwed.

“What happened with you guys?” Sasha urged with a curious smile, poking Jean’s bruise as well. “I recall taking you both to your rightful homes last night.”

“N-nothing happened.” I claimed hastily. I mean, I couldn’t just fess up, tell them that Jean was possibly having a breakdown, because not only would that just worry them, but I already told myself I wasn’t telling anyone; That would be Jean’s choice and I wasn’t going to expose him like that. And I definitely wasn’t going to satisfy them by saying I unexpectedly spent the night at his house—god, I could barely admit it to myself. I hid my face in my hands.

Lucky for me, break was ending and we all had to go back to our seats and play some more before they asked more questions. But I was keeping my back pressed against the seat in hopes someone hasn’t seen Jean’s name on the back. Christ, I couldn’t think of a way out of this. People were going to think it, that there was something going on between Jean and me. Which there wasn’t, right?

I risked a glance at him sitting beside me, his focus strong on the music in front of him as he played. Was it really that bad for people to think that? I never cared what other people thought before this...Maybe they’ll just forget about it anyways. A bro could borrow another bro’s shirt every once in a while. Damn, calling Jean a ‘bro’ was freaking weird.

By the time the long boring day of band was over, the rain had lightened up to a misty sprinkle. It’d been a long time since we’d gotten rain like this. Mikasa rushed out quickly, telling me on her way out she had to get to work. At least she wasn’t pestering me about Jean yet, like the others. I was trying like hell to not be faced by the springles. Cue Armin, who caught up to me by the door while I was heading out.

“So, hey,” He started. “Can you explain what exactly is going on?”

I pressed my lips together stubbornly, tossing my trumpet case into my other hand. “What makes you think something’s happening?”

“Well, let me think.” Armin said in mock-thought. “You both disappeared last night during the game, which is odd since both of you are very willfully dedicated. When you did come back, a fight had obviously taken place, but you guys didn’t seem angry with each other like usual. Jean came back with a swelled cheek, and your knuckle had blood on it—don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Armin crossed his arms and continued. “Then, you texted me last night about something important and you needed to talk to me. Sorry, by the way, I wasn’t awake. But finally, you hitched a ride with Jean this morning, wearing his shirt and looking too satisfied for your own good.” He stopped listing and smiled. “And bonus: I was walking by the windows and I saw that hug. So fess up.”

Another reason to never doubt Armin Arlert. I was caught red-handed.

“Well..uh...” I began awkwardly, glancing around, for Jean or the others, I wasn’t sure. “It’ll take a while to explain...”

Armin pursed his lips and pulled his hair out of his face. “Then call me later; my parents are here.”

“Oh, all right. See ya.” I waved to him as he rushed over to his parents’ car, thankful I had time to think of how I was going to explain it to him. I stood there alone for a moment. That is until someone behind me said, “Hey, dork. Catch.”

I barely whipped around in time to grab the damp hoodie that was tossed toward me. I’d forgotten it in the band room. It’d come from Jean himself, who watched me impatiently. I noticed his hair had dried in a messy fashion, spiking out like he was going punk or some shit.

Skipping the thanks, I said, “What do you want?”

“You’re coming with me.” He explained with ease. My heart leapt involuntarily before he continued, “You don’t have a ride, right?”

“T-that’s true.” I stuttered. Damn it Eren, keep it cool. You’re stupid. Stop being stupid.

“And anyways,” He said, walking past me. “You left your bike at my house.”

“Right.” I said. “Yeah. Yeah, I need to take care of that.”

He smirked at me as I caught up to him. “What’s with the face?”

“What?” My free hand flew up to my head. “What face? I don’t have a face.”

“Yeah you do.” He grinned. “You look like you’re constipated or something.”

“ _You’re_ constipated or something.”

“Your comebacks never cease to amuse me, kiddo.”

“ _Your_ comebacks never cease to amuse me.” I repeated again.

Jean hesitated. “Wow, it’s hot.”

“ _You’re_ hot—No! No, I’m not falling for that, fuck you!”

“Pffftt! You just did, idiot.” Jean cackled at me. After he composed himself, he asked, “Whatever. You coming with me or not?”

What was that look? His head lowered, but eyes locked on mine, lips curved in a shitty smile. It should’ve been illegal.

I really couldn’t get enough of this asshole. It couldn’t be long before I wanted to punch him repeatedly again, right?

“Whatever, sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to put it out there, i think im going to be going back and editing previous chapters since i am trash and have lots to fix up and shorten and yah. I'll try not to take so dang long to update again sorry, but thank you everyone!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds himself inevitably fighting with Eren again because obviously being friends just isn't going to cut it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this took me like six years to whip up didn't it whoops also jean pov hecka

**Jean**

Having Eren ride home with me in the passenger seat felt weird. Seeing him calmly turn up the car radio on a good song was weirder. Even weirder was the wordless smile he gave me when I looked over. Weirdest of all was the swelling in my chest when he did that.

We weren’t arguing, or yelling or fighting, and although I felt more relaxed, it was awkward. We didn’t know how to have casual conversation. There was just too much tension and weird chemistry between us and I didn't even know where it came from.

That only meant it wouldn’t be long before we were fighting again, right?

Right.

I pulled up my short driveway, parked and said, “Do you want to get your clothes, too, Eren?”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on the heavy rain outside. This on and off again rain today was getting ridiculous. “Yeah.”

So we got out of my car and bolted for the sheltered porch, and as I tried to shake the water off I asked meekly to Eren, “...Do you want to wait outside?”

“Why?” He said, zipping up his sweatshirt. “I’ve already been in there anyway and I don’t want you touching my clothes.”

“You’re already touching my clothes right now.” I pointed out.

“Well, that was your choice, not mine.”

“Ugh. Fine, you ungrateful sea urchin.” I sighed, opening the door. What I’d originally wanted to avoid was—

“Oh, welcome back, Jeanbo!” My mom greeted cheerfully the moment we stepped in. She was standing in the main room folding laundry and my dad was watching the TV. Wait, no. He was sleeping.

Oh man, I didn’t want my mom to be seeing Eren. She got horrifically friendly with company. Besides Reiner. “And who’s this? Are you the boy who spent the night?”

Whose face was redder, mine or Eren’s? I squeaked, “H-he didn’t—”

“A mommy knows everything!” She sung. She had to be losing her marbles. She gestured to Eren. “I did your laundry today, sweetie. What’s your name? Has he been nice to you?”

I tried to rub away the aneurism I was getting. I was glad she felt better today but...ugh. Her feeling better also usually added to her being aggressively embarrassing.

“Um,” Eren stepped forward and nodded to her politely as she stuffed his newly cleaned clothes in his hands. “I’m Eren, hi. And uh, thank you?”

“Eren?” She blinked at him in shock, and then smiled. _Oh no_. “So _you’re_ Eren! The other trumpet boy! I’ve heard so much about you!”

“You’ve...” Eren turned to me with amused confusion. “Really?”

Okay. I had to get Eren out of that room and fast. I didn’t need his ego boosted by the amounts of times I’d complained to my mother about his being better than me in middle school, and his asshole remarks and his pretty eyes. That, and she knew the aggressive amounts of four letter words often associated with the word “Eren.”

Point was, she did this with every single person I’d ever brought home. Hell, she’ll probably take out baby pictures within twelve seconds if I left them alone. It was like I was dating whoever walked through that door.

Not to imply I’m in any way, shape, or form dating Eren. That would be nice, but no. No, this was Eren and he kind of hated me. And anyway, I’d only just come to terms with the fact I was definitely fantasizing about a guy. A very pretty guy.

Fuck. I had to stop thinking about this. We weren’t even friends. Or were we friends now? I wanted to be friends with him, but I wouldn’t ever admit that. God damn, this was confusing.

I rushed forward and grabbed Eren’s wrist. “Well, mom, Eren has to get home soon and he’s gotta change so wegottagobye.”

She made a pouting face. “But he could stay for dinner! There’s lots of storms coming, and I was think about making—”

“NO MOM.”

And I made a break for the stairs with Eren. We went to my room and I shut the door, as if she’d follow or something. Eren cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re pretty touchy.” He said, and I glowered at him.

“Shuddup, you gonna change or what?” I asked, and I noticed the rain sounded louder than it should have. Turned out my window was left open and letting the rain in, so I rushed over and slammed it shut. As if that would change the fact the rain from earlier already got in and dampened my carpet and the top of my keyboard I used for practice. I took the bottom of my shirt and started wiping it off before it got damaged from water.

“How often do you play that?” Asked Eren suddenly. I cocked my head at him.

“The piano?” I hit the switch and made sure it still worked. “Enough, I guess. I used to get lessons.”

“You mean keyboard.”

“It’s the same skill set.” I pointed out.

“You should play something.” Eren suggested, ignoring me. I immediately felt nervousness in my chest. Yeah, I’d gotten lessons for my whole childhood, but still. What if Eren was some kind of piano prodigy too and about to show me up again? But for some reason I doubted it. It took steady and patient as well as swift hands to do piano; I didn’t think he could be that good at it. I felt like Eren succeeded more when it took more vigor in playing the music rather than concentration. And piano took a lot more multi-tasking. Eren was more of an all-out-focus-on-one-thing-and-one-thing-only kind of guy in my view.

“Well, like...” I looked at the instrument timidly and did a quick chromatic scale to make sure I still had it. “What should I do? Most of the stuff I learn is instrumentals for vocals, you know.”

“So you can sing?” Eren smirked, and when I shrugged he scoffed. “Pfft, I doubt it.”

“Is that a challenge?” I demanded with a returning brash grin. Of course I could sing. I could sing pretty damn well. Why the heck else would I be trying to major in music and learning piano and vocals as well as trumpet? Well fine. If that’s the way he wanted it, fine. This guy was about to piss himself as he came to hear Jean Kirschtein’s gifts.

So instead of speaking more with him, I started playing a low piano melody I’d taught myself an arrangement of. Eren was watching close behind me, but I couldn’t let myself think about that if I wanted to stop my fingers from shaking. It started slowly, but soon the right hand gave way to a more upbeat melody to bring in the vocal part.

And I started singing the lyrics. It was originally sung by a girl, but I didn’t really care. I thought the song had potential so I’d worked on my own arrangement of it. And I’d chosen this one because I was proud of it. I’d successfully made it more artistic than most of my personal arrangements, with interesting counter melodies in the right hand.

Except, long after I learned it I realized who always came to mind when I was singing it, and it’d started giving me a bitter taste when I sang it. I would keep that information to myself until the day I died because damn my imagination was out of control. And I especially wouldn’t be telling the said muse that was listening to me sing it right then, his green eyes burning into me.

“ _High dive in the frozen waves where the past comes back to life_.” I sang, the beginning of the phrase coming out shaky. I hadn’t warmed up or anything and Eren being the one watching made it all the more nerve-wracking. But hearing the breath he took in let me go on stronger. “ _Fight fear for the selfish pain, it was worth it every time._ ”

“Hey...” Eren began after there was a break in the singing. His voice sounded quite in awe and my chest expanded with arrogance. “I think I know this one, what is it?”

I smiled but couldn’t look at him as the piano parts went into a more complex pattern. “ _You are, the piece of me, I wish I didn’t need..._ ”

“Ah, it’s that one.” Eren sighed. I’d been pretty sure if he’d listened to the radio he’d recognize it.

I continued with a scale down the keys into the chorus. “ _If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy? If our love’s insanity, why are you my clarity_?”

Eren didn’t talk much more, only listened, and I concentrated on playing and singing along accurately. The rest of the song seemed to fly by in my head, but took so much longer with Eren leaning in closer to watch me play. Did he know what personal space was? But did I even want to complain?

As I started the second verse, I heard Eren join me in the vocals. I forgot that he was in choir; he was able to sing, too. As we sang in unison, my right hand almost lost its place on the keys.

Oh god, I was singing a duet with Eren. A love song, at that. I had to try and maintain a full focus on the keys, but my voice faltered anyway. Still, with a laugh, Eren picked it up, continuing in his own lower and rougher but beautiful voice until I joined in again. I had to admit, we really did resonate well. I liked the way we sounded together, especially when Eren started singing a harmony instead.

But then Eren let me sing alone again towards the end, maybe so he could observe whether I was any good, or just so he could listen, I wasn’t sure. But my words were coming out clearer and with more confidence than the start, and I could only hope that Eren was impressed. He wasn’t talking, so that was something. It took a lot to shut him up.

I finished with the piano solo I’d added in to the ending. Eren’s eyes followed each swift finger movement in my right hand to the low chords being played in my left. And I ended knowing I’d only had a few wrong notes, ones which anyone other than Eren wouldn’t have noticed. But when I turned around, he didn’t try to correct them. He just stared blankly at me.

“Good.” He finally said.

“Good?” I repeated with a stifled laugh. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah...I mean it was good.” Eren looked away shamefacedly. “I mean good, well. Good job. You are. That.”

I was enjoying this too much. “So you’re saying I’m good?

“Whatever.” He groaned, and I could swear his cheeks were dark. “Yeah. Kind of. You’re okay. At that.”

“Well, good thing eight years of lessons did something.” I shrugged with a cocky grin. I shut off the piano and looked at the rain outside, lighting my room up in gray and making the color in Eren’s eyes stand out more bright than usual.

“Oh hey, um,” Eren started, making me look at him. “Do you have a scar?”

Well that was out of the blue. “What?”

“On your hip.” He pointed on his stomach where it would be. “I saw it there when you were changing this morning.”

Ah. That would explain why he was staring at me when I was changing. Why else would he? He apparently thought I resembled a horse, so he wouldn’t think I was...whatever.

“Um, yeah.” I lifted my shirt so he could see the white stripe on my hip, poking out from under my shorts. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, stepping forward for a closer look and it made me want to jump out of my skin. “I just think scars are kind of cool. I don’t have any.”

“Oh.” I mumbled, but then I felt his hand my lower hip.

I yelped and he flinched back. “What? Does it hurt?”

“U-um,” Think, Jean Kirschtein, don’t be a fucking moron. Eren won’t notice what the fuck he’s doing to you. I collected myself and answered, “No, it’s fine, I just didn’t realize you were going to fucking grope it.”

“Grope?” Eren rolled his eyes but didn’t make space between them. “Come on, I just wanted to know what it felt like. How did you get it?”

I barely caught the undertone in the question. Probably asking if it had anything to do with the words “self harm”.

“Appendix removed.” I said, trying not to be mad. I'd been fine for years, there was nothing to even worry about. I didn’t _think_ there was. “Happened junior year.”

“Hm. Cool.” Eren said, and I had to restrain from pointing out that an internal organ exploding wasn’t really ‘cool’. Then Eren asked, “Can I touch it?”

Can you also set me on fire it feels pretty much the same. “Uh, Sure...”

Eren put his hand back on my hip, and let his thumb brush slowly across the fine line and dip slightly under my pant line. Yep, he couldn't have the slightest idea of what personal space was. And apparently he wasn’t aware of the body part that was fairly close to where he was touching and frankly I was going to have a heart attack.

“Hey Jean.” Eren asked, finally moving his hand but staying close. I wanted to cry or scream or kiss him or some weird mix of the three. Mostly the last one.

“Yeah?” the word came like a fucking squeak.

“Why did you call me?”

“What?” I backed away a bit, needing distance from those penetrating eyes. “You mean last night?”

He nodded. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s...” I sighed. There’s no point in coming up with a dumb excuse.

“You weren’t supposed to actually, you know, _care_ at all. You always tell me things up front, and other people would immediately do what they could to make me feel better...I thought if I called _you,_ I wouldn’t worry anyone and I'd get, you know, a clear answer...”

It was the whole truth, too. I’d needed so badly to hear someone else’s voice back then, but I’d worry people. Sasha and Connie would’ve flipped and they’re ridiculous as it was. I didn’t want to bother Armin or Mikasa. To hell was I going to talk to my mom or dad. And Reiner and Bertholdt? I was pretty sure those guys would’ve driven out to see me, and I wasn’t going to burden anyone with this.

So I’d call Eren, who wouldn’t care, even if a part of me wanted him to. Seeing Eren show up at my house and talk with me until I fell asleep in his arms was the furthest from my expectations.

But Eren was staring at me as if I dropped out of space.

“You thought I wouldn’t care?” Eren confirmed in a low voice. “Even at all?”

“Well...yeah.” I said, confused.

“Why would you think that?” Eren pressed. My brows lowered in misunderstanding.

“Eren,” I began with an awkward laugh. “You one up me every chance you get, you’re always fighting with me or yelling at me, I’m pretty sure you’ve cursed my existence and would rather have me far away in Trost. What else was I supposed to think?”

Although, as the words came out, I was discovering the discrepancies. If he really didn’t give any shit about me, then why would he risk getting in trouble or getting his ass kicked to protect me at the game? Why would he keep pestering me about whether I was as okay as I acted? Why would he have wanted to cheer me up so badly before? And why would he have stopped me that day awhile back by the reservoir to just say _sorry?_ I’d thought it’d just been having moral fiber, but...

“I don’t know, that maybe I wasn’t a complete dick?” Eren spat back. “Maybe that I do care about you? Don't assume you know how I feel.”

“You—” I clearly wasn’t hearing right. I’ve spent my whole life with Eren hating me. That wasn’t going to suddenly change. “You don’t...Eren, we hate each other, don’t we?”

For a moment his eyebrows shot up with wide, maybe even hurt eyes, and I regretted the words. God, I was fucking up. That face reminded me too much of how Marco had looked when I told him those hurtful things. I was hurting someone I cared about again.

But before I could try and fix it, Eren’s expression went cold. “Right. Sorry I brought it up.”

He turned away to leave with his clothes in hand but I grabbed his arm. “Wait a fucking second, Jaeger. _Do_ you hate me?”

“Does that even matter?” Eren snapped. “You don’t care about that anyway, right?”

I felt my peace of mind erupting. “You’re the one that doesn’t care! You’ve always been shit to me, all through middle school, you just stomped on anything I said!”

“You did the same thing. Don’t act like the victim.” He retorted. The rain was picking up outside.

“That doesn’t change that you did it.” I muttered, my grip on his arm loosening. Why was I arguing about this? This shit happened years ago, it was water under the bridge.

Eren shrugged my hand off of him. “Oh yeah, so I’m not supposed to care that you treated me like shit, too. But you know what? You shouldn’t sit on how I acted before to defend your acting like a dill hole now.”

“So what’re _you_ doing now?” I demanded. Eren stared at me as if I was an idiot.

“Are you really that stupid?” He asked, and I scowled at him. “You can’t really be that stupid.”

“Shut up and answer the question!”

“I can’t do both of those at once.”

“Screw you!” I cursed. Eren took a few deep breaths, scowling at me before turning around.

“I’m just trying to be nice.” Eren muttered with patent disgust. “I thought maybe you’d want that.”

“I don’t _want_ that!” I denied heatedly, and I didn’t even know why I denied it. Of course I wanted that, I wanted that too much. Did I think he meant more to that statement? No, of course he wouldn’t, this was Eren fucking Jaeger and everything he did was simple, there weren’t underlying questions under his words. Eren cast a look over his shoulder.

“Yeah. Clearly I made a mistake there.” He nodded, opening the door to leave. “See you at band, Jean.”

Wait. I didn’t want him to leave, did I? What did I want? Not for him to leave. Fuck, I’m a moron, what do I do to stop him?

“Eren, come on.” I began to follow him. “It’s pouring down rain, at least wait. O-or let me drive you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Eren said with a shrug. “And you hate me, so why would you care?”

“Don’t be so stupid.” I grated, but he turned away into the hall anyway.

“No, get back here!” I yelled out to him, my feet planted to the floor. I wasn’t going to chase him, but there had to be some other reason to keep him here. “YOU’RE STILL WEARING MY SHIRT!”

“THEN I’M KEEPING THE DAMN SHIRT!” I heard Eren’s voice reply from the stairs. It wasn’t long before I heard the front door shut very calmly, probably because Eren was being polite to my parents, even if he’d been yelling at me a second before.

I stood alone in my room, the only sound being the rain and wind hitting my window, and tried to go over what’d happened. Okay, so I’d taken Eren here, and everything had been fine, but I’d...What set him off? What set _me_ off?

I couldn’t help the urge to laugh. This is what happened every single time we fought. I never had the slightest idea who started it and when I started yelling. It was almost nostalgic.

If it wasn’t as painful right now. I didn't want to fight with him anymore. Not like this. I flopped down on my bed, staring at the textured white ceiling as I thought. But it was hard to concentrate when I could still smell Eren on the sheets.

It’d been because I said we hated each other. But I thought we did. Or at least, Eren did. I knew for an unfortunate fact I didn’t dislike that bastard in the slightest. But he’d always detested me, so why would he get offended by that statement unless he didn’t?

Did Eren not hate me?

Fuck, could he really not actually hate me? It doesn’t matter anymore, though, because I’d definitely just made sure he hated me. And I doubted he’d want to be talking to me again. If I see him again.

I felt my body shudder as that thought went through my head. I remembered back to Marco, that last time I’d seen him. How I’d just been an asshole to him when he didn’t deserve it. And he died thinking that was what I thought of him. That he was a two faced jerk and a liar and I hated him.

It must have been a preposterous thought, but what if Eren died now? God, Eren would...Eren would die thinking I hated him. That couldn’t happen. I couldn’t let that happen.  
Eren mattered to me. I cared about Eren. I liked his smile and his laugh and his eyes and I liked it when he yelled at me and fought with me because fuck he was so god damn passionate about his values and I loved watching him defend those things and I loved everything that made Eren Jaeger.

What if I never saw him again and he didn’t know that?

It doesn’t matter if he hates me. I need him to know that.

I faintly heard my mom calling me downstairs. I’d better go to her, I needed to stop fucking moping around because I pissed off that idiot yet again. Eren would roll his eyes to me acting like this, and tell me I was acting like a coward again.

Damn it, I was going to prove that guy wrong if it killed me.

I gathered myself and stepped swiftly down the stairs. My mom was sitting in the living room, watching the weather channel. It seemed to be talking about something serious, but I wasn’t going to give it any attention.

“What is it?” I asked, and she turned around, looking concerned.

“Why did your boyfriend leave so soon?” She asked. Come on, I freaking know you heard us yelling at each other, mom. Don’t play dumb.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I groaned, not having the strength to fight back the accusation as strongly as usual.

“He might as well have been.” My father, who was now sitting up and watching the television, pointed out. Did they all just know I was considering the other team or something?

“Why did your friend leave, then?” Dad corrected. “We asked if he wanted to wait out the storm, but he said his parents would want him home.”

I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand. “I told you he’d have to leave.”

“Is he walking?” Mom asked. “I wouldn’t want that poor boy to be driving in this...”

“What?” I sighed. “It’s just some thunder storms, why would it...”

My eyes finally caught what was on the weather channel, the red alerting banners listing nearby counties, and our own. Oh fuck.

With the mild drought we’d been having and suddenly getting all these storm fronts...Of course this would happen now. Oh god no.

“We’re in a _tornado warning_?” I suddenly shouted, stepping close to my mother. “There is a _tornado?”_

She just blinked at me, her hazel eyes wide with concealed worry. “Jean, it’ll be all right, it’s only—”

“Why’d that idiot leave?” I continued, striding into the kitchen. My parents followed me as I grabbed my car keys off the counter. “God damn it, I’m going to kill him.”

“Jean.” My mother suddenly demanded before I could bust through the front door. “You’re not driving in this, it’s dangerous.”

“But—” My eyes darted back and forth from her to the door. “Mom, Eren’s riding a damn bicycle! What if he gets hurt? Or worse? He lives close but—”

“He’ll be fine, Jean.” My father was saying. “He lives close and he’ll be able to get to safety.”

God, how I was used to that tone. Every single person did it, talking to me like a crying toddler who needed some simple comforts. It reminded me of parents telling their kids their dog “went to the farm”. But this was an actual dangerous problem. Tornadoes easily cause casualties and injuries and destroyed everything in their paths and I could lose Eren forever in this and damn it if I was going to let that happen.

I was _not_ going to go through this again. Everything in my head was blurred except one clear thought: Eren’s going to die Eren’s going to die Eren’s going to die.

“Fine, I won’t drive.” I said with gritted teeth. “I’ll walk.”

“Jean, no,” Mom said immediately, but my dad took her shoulder and narrowed his eyes at me. I didn't care what they said though, I was going to find Eren before this storm passed.

“How close exactly does Eren live?” He asked.

“About a mile and a quarter.” I answered hastily. No, I didn’t keep track of the exact distance Eren was from me for a running route where I’d pass Eren’s house. I most certainly did not.

“Can you handle yourself?” My dad inquired, and I could hear the reluctance in his voice. He did realize I was almost an adult, didn't he? “I want you stay at the Jaeger’s if necessary. Understand?”

“Got it. See you guys soon, love you.” I said each word so fast they probably couldn’t understand them and I bolted out of the house.

Damn, it really was pouring. Did I really have a marching band rehearsal when the weather would be like this less than an hour later? Leave it to band to shrug off the chance of deadly twisters, I guess.

Thunder and downpour drowned out anything else that could be heard. Everything, the grass, the trees, the road, were masked with gray clouds and misting rain. Heavy winds plowed through the trees and whistled. At least there wasn’t hail yet. And maybe if there was so much rain I had time before a tornado hit.

I was already feeling like I was soaked when I glanced at my car, and saw a familiar instrument case sitting in the backseat.

That idiot seriously left his trumpet. I’d never expect that kind of behavior from him. He must really have been upset. God, I was an idiot.

I hurried into my car and grabbed it, happy that Eren had a nice case that would let the rain into it. He’d kill me if I damaged it.

Okay, I had to think. All I had to do was run straight to Eren’s and make sure he was okay and clear up everything. And give the stupid head his trumpet. I had to tell him I didn’t hate him, that I actually cared more than I’d ever truly admit to myself and I’d never had a better feeling than when I woke up with him in my arms and I wanted that again.

Everything in my life had been so strange and foreign and confusing, and I felt like the world was out to get me even before I lost Marco. And although Marco had always been a light in my gray life, Eren had always been the blinding color that I couldn’t look away from. And right now, he’d left my thoughts clear and I couldn’t lose this strange simple peace I had.

I made an unforgivable mistake with Marco. I’d taken him for granted and lost him. I should’ve made Marco stay. I should’ve chased him until he didn’t leave and I should’ve apologized for everything.

Now the world wanted to watch me do it all again? All I could see in my head were news reports of a tornado touching down and killing Eren Jaeger, who wouldn’t have died if I didn’t let him leave.

I was going to lose Eren. If I didn’t do something I could lose the most important person to me all over again.

So I started sprinting down the road with a trumpet case in my hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah poor dumb jean.  
> so i feel like quite a bit happened in this chapter? but hella I believe there is only one chapter left after this! So thanking all of you for reading and stuff I'm just asdfgkh thank you! (also those dorks sand Clarity by Zedd if you didn't know)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things continued changing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look guys i did the thing

Maybe I overreacted.

I didn’t have to get so touchy about it, I mean, I knew Jean hated me, right? I don’t know why it suddenly felt so offensive. Maybe because I thought he was starting to, well, not hate me.

And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn, I could’ve not biked home in a fucking storm. I should’ve taken that asshole up on his ride home offer. And it would really suck if I came across, oh I don’t know, a freaking tornado.

I highly doubted I would anyway, but still, the thought that they were in a tornado warning got me peddling a little faster and forgetting the fact I’d left my trumpet—Shit I left my trumpet at Jean’s. Shit.

With the rain plummeting around me, all I could hear was the colliding of wind and water and my own thoughts. The ones running by and leaving stabs in my gut, reminding me that no, things don’t change. Maybe my own feelings could change—well, that was a lie anyway, I was probably just in some fucked up denial that I cared about the guy anyway—but there was nothing I could do about it if Jean didn’t care. That wasn’t something I could change with pure determination was it? Because that involved another whole person’s wants, which I couldn’t decide.

And Jean, well, he’d made it pretty clear that I wasn’t going to be able to be someone that mattered to him. And that was ultimately what I’d been aiming for, right? Someone who could make as much of an impact as Marco did, even. But there wasn’t really going to be any filling the gap left by Marco for him, even if he was able to cover it. And I couldn’t even try to fill it. Jean wouldn’t let me, anyway.

Whatever. I had to just let this go. Maybe we could go back to beating each other up like in middle school and arguing like there was no tomorrow. I shuddered at the thought.

The past few weeks had been weird, but I didn’t want to go back to that. I liked trying to understand that guy, how he masked his problems and what his thoughts were and why he did things and thought things the way he did. Shit, it’d be so much better if the feeling was mutual.

I had other things to be thinking about, anyway. We were going to start having competitions in the next week, and school would be starting, applications needed to be worked on, yeah. I had a lot of shit.

And not only that, but I had some parents I needed to talk to.

I could see my mom outside on the porch the moment the house was in sight, and I had a good inkling of why, even before I braked my bike on the edge of the garage and joined her in the shelter of the porch.

“Eren Jaeger...” She began her rehearsed scolding, practically fuming from the ears. She looked tired today, her hair frizzy and neglected. Her eyes were shining oddly as if she’d cried recently, and that only gave me a feeling of shame. I was still mad, but I shouldn’t have made her have to worry. Even if she lied to me, it wasn’t that she didn’t care.

“Where the hell were you?” She asked first off. “Do you have any idea how worried we were? You leave in the middle of the night and don’t tell us where you leave to and stay out until the afternoon and you're soaked to the bone and you're out while a tornado warning is in effect!” 

I shrugged. “A friend’s house, to answer your question.”

“Whose?” 

“Um.” I darted my eyes away. “Jean’s.”

That threw off her angry expression for a short moment. “Jean? Why—You know what? I don’t want to know. But what— _exactly_ —gave you the right to leave in the middle of the night without permission?”

I didn’t really have the energy for this. “uh, I didn’t have the right?”

“That’s right.” She nodded, looking miffed that she probably had some good lecture prepared for my talking back but I wasn’t giving her the chance to use them. “And why weren’t you answering your phone?”

“Okay, that one is because it died while I was out.” I reached into my pocket and showed it to her, and the fact if he pressed the button you only got the sorrowful image of an empty battery. I also remembered that the last I used it was when I was heading to Jean’s house. For some reason, spending just last night with him felt so long ago. Maybe because he’d already decided he didn’t want anything to do with me.

“Look, I know your mad, I made a bad decision, it was irresponsible, blah blah. But I get it, I’m sorry.” I told my mom, knowing full well how much of an ass of a kid I was acting. You’re supposed to just take it when your parents need to yell, because they have to do it sometime, and even if you already understand their side and that you were wrong, you have to listen to it. Maybe it makes them feel better, who knew.

But my irresponsibility was not the thing I needed to discuss with her, and I was pretty sure she was using it as an escape from what I wanted to talk about.

“Is dad here?” I asked her and her eyes widened, a little surprised, a little pained. She knew where this was headed.

“No...” She shook her head. “No, he was called into work before the storm hit. He’s safe though, he called me and told me.”

“So you still care about him?” I mumbled, and she looked at me gravely.

“Eren...” She began, hugging her arms and leaning on the pillars of the porch. Her eyes found the rain falling before them and watched without looking at me. “Of course I still care about him. You’re misunderstanding the situation.”

“Then what is it?” I pleaded with her. “What’s the big reason that you guys have to divorce? I don’t get it.”

“Sometimes, there are things that matter more than the marriage.” She murmured, yet said it with strength. “He has his personal matters here and there, and now he needs to move, while I want to stay here and you want to stay here. We should respect that.”

“He should put others before himself.” I grumbled, crossing my arms.

“Maybe.” My mom shrugged. “But it’s not only that. We’ve had...disagreements I guess, for what we want in our futures now. We may be the same people as we were, but sometimes feelings change, or what things have always been finally rise up. I need you to understand that.”

“But it’s...” I started, but I realized there was nothing to be said. She was stating a simple fact. She was right.

People don’t change, but feelings change, futures change. Things change whether we want them to or not. And just because this is inconvenient, doesn’t mean it’s not for the best, right? Maybe this will be better for everyone. Who knew what my mom was planning to do with my dad gone. 

But I didn’t want my dad to be gone. That part stung the most.

“He still loves you, too, Eren.” Said Mom, as if she was reading my mind. “Why else do you think he was planning on staying until you finished school? He wanted to be there for you, right until you went to college.”

I shook my head and sunk down on the porch swing beside me, the squeaks of the swing’s chain’s filling the silence between them with the rain.

“I know.” I murmured. “I know, okay? It just sucks. I wanted you guys to be together. I thought you were happy.”

My mom sat down beside me, her hair and eyes looking especially vibrant in contrast to the dull rainy world surrounding them. A light smile curved on her face.

"We were happy before.” She said softly. “Don’t think that everything before was a lie. We did feel happiness, and that’s what’s important.”

“You think so?” I asked, looking back at her.

“Everything in the past matters, Eren.” She explained. “Some things are sharp memories, some become water under the bridge, but...it all leads up to where you are here, and how you feel here.”

She paused. “Don’t look at this like the end of something. See it as...a new beginning.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, beginning of a lot of shit to deal with.”

“Don’t look at it like that, who are you?” She reprimanded. “You’re usually the one that’s bursting with optimism and determination.”

I shrugged indifferently, and to that she frowned. “I’m really sorry, Eren. I wish I could make this better, if there’s anything you want us to do—”

“No, I get it.” I interrupted. “I get the whole thing. I’m just gonna be upset about it a bit longer, okay? And anyway that’s not...” I sighed. “It’s not really the only thing bothering me.”

“What else is...” She followed my gaze out to the road. “Does it have to do with school coming up? Friends?”

“I...I guess so.”

“Boy trouble?”

“Please never say that again.”

“Ah, so it is.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Who is it? What’s wrong?”

Honestly, even if I wasn’t already hesitant by the fact she was totally getting into my dumb business like moms do, I wasn’t even sure what to say. What was actually our problem? That I liked someone that hated me? I was pretty sure that summed it up.

“I don’t know.” I admitted meekly. “I just don’t think him and me are...Seeing eye to eye.”

“That’s it?” my mother blinked at me, and when I nodded she sighed, running her hand through her long dark hair. “I doubt you’ve ever had that problem before with how honest you are. If you aren’t seeing eye to eye, just fix it.”

“By doing what?” I urged, sitting up in the seat. “It’s not like he listens to anything I say...”

“Find what kind of things make him listen.” Mom shrugged with a glint in her hazel eyes. “I know you can do that. And besides, you of all people can get anyone to listen to you.”

I met her eyes and found hers looking confident with her answer, and maybe she was right. Maybe I could just get Jean to listen to me for once in his damn life, I’d just have to straight up tell him. Even though that’ll mean losing all dignity I had before...Oh, to hell with it, I don’t give a shit anymore.

"So, is this the friend you spent the night with?" She perked up, narrowing her eyes. My cheeks flushed.

"No-god, it wasn't like _that_!" I managed. "Seriously, I swear, I-I didn't do anything—"

“Well that’s weird.” My mom suddenly said, apparently not worried anymore, and looking past me at the rained out road. “Who on earth would be going out for a run in this weather?”

“Someone’s running—?” I turned around and my jaw probably unhinged. “Shit.”

I immediately recognized the frame. There he fucking was. A brief yet endless moment passed where he stopped in front of our house to catch his breath in the downpour. Then he found my gaze looking back at his, and Jean held up an arm to present my trumpet case. Was that seriously....what the fuck.

My mom cocked an eyebrow. “Wait, is that your friend Jean?”

“He’s not my—.” I paused, glancing between them. “Uh, yeah.”

I stared out at Jean again, who only walking slowly up to the porch as if he didn’t even realize it was raining. “Hey mom, could you...give us a second?”

She stood up immediately and went to the front door. “Of course, but I’d hope the two of you will come inside soon; although the storm’s just passing us anyway.”

She went inside but popped her head out once more to add, “By the way Eren, make it short, because you are extremely grounded.”

I winced as she slammed the door shut, and then locked eyes with Jean again in my front yard like this was some kind of romantic film. Better say something eventually.

“What the hell are you doing?” I called out to him.

“You...” Jean panted as thunder boomed above us. “You forgot your trumpet.”

I was absolutely shocked. There was nothing else really to describe it.  
“Yeah, I can see that. Get out of the fucking rain.” I gestured for him to get under the shelter of the front porch. Jean did so without reluctance, and I noticed he was shaking. I couldn’t tell if he was cold or shaken from emotion. Maybe both. But what had messed him up like this?

Rain fell, filling the silence left where we just stared, Jean still breathing hard from running and soaked to the bone. His blond hair looked darker and clung to his face in clumps of soaked locks. Drops of water fell down his face, and I watched him wet his lips nervously. 

I was frustrated because I’d just left after fighting with him but I didn’t feel angry anymore, but I didn’t know if he was still mad. That and neither of us seemed to volunteer for speaking first. You could cut the tension between us with a knife. I cleared my throat.

“You could’ve given me that later.” I finally told him, looking at the trumpet. “You might have damaged the cushion on the inside for bringing it out through the damn rain.”

“T-that’s not the only reason I came.” Jean argued. I cocked an eyebrow for him to continue. I couldn’t fathom what was so important he went through a fucking storm like this to tell me.

“It’s...” Jean carried his eyes away from me, as he did with his voice. It looked like he’d had something planned but was losing nerve. Then he raised his voice. “There’s a tornado warning, Eren! Why the hell did you just leave in the middle of this! That was so fucking childish! You could’ve waited it out or something!”

“Wait.” I put a hand up, forcing myself not to raise my voice with his. “You’re saying you only came here to lecture me?”

“No, I—”

“And seriously?” I interrupted, not fully on purpose. “We get tornado watches and warnings literally all the time, what’s one more?”

“Eren, I-I didn’t think I’d—”

“I don’t think you should be the one calling me childish here when you just ran—”

“Eren!” Jean shouted, gripping my shoulders and shaking me close to him so our eyes were forced to meet.

“I came ‘cause I didn’t want you to fucking die!”

“huh?”

I stared. He stared back. The storm continued, yet began to fade into the background as Jean’s words took the forefront.

Jean cleared his throat and pulled his arms away. “...Yeah.”

I blinked slowly. “You were scared I’d...”

“I was scared I’d lose y—well, you’d, die.” Jean murmured, his voice losing the strength it had a minute ago. “One person already left me before I had the chance to fix things.”

I remembered his explanation about Marco, and felt shame in the pit of my stomach. I hadn’t understood why he’d been paranoid polly in the first place. Because I wasn’t exaggerating when I said our weather was insane and chances of bad storms and twister weather was often through the roof. 

But Jean was scared of going through everything all over again, wasn’t he? Someone disappearing forever after a dumb argument. But the difference was I wasn’t Marco. I was far from Marco, especially in his relationship with Jean. Hell, Jean and I had stomped out of sight from each other after fights countless times. He couldn’t possibly get as traumatized by my loss than his. We were supposed to hate each other, or at the very least feel indifferent. We didn’t have a relationship, any I thought we had was in my head.

“Jean, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” I said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. “There’s nothing that needs to be fixed here, we’re fine.”

And I thought that, too. This was the relationship we’d always had, right? Arguing over dumb, trivial things and getting over them to argue again. It was a cycle of nonchalant hatred that we were going to look back on in the future and think you know, if he wasn’t such an ass we could’ve been friends. That was what we were supposed to do, that was the relationship we had. 

But Jean laughed dryly at the words, throwing his head back. 

“’there’s nothing that needs to be fixed’.” Jean repeated mockingly. “That’s absolute bull shit.”

Okay, I was completely lost. “What do you mean?”

Jean’s pained smile left his face as he scowled at me. “Are you really this stupid?” 

I crossed my arms in waiting for a response. What the hell was he talking about?

“Okay, so nothing would be left wrong if you...died?” Jean asked uncomfortably. “Nothing about me hating you?”

When I stayed silent, he looked down at his feet. “I don’t hate you, Eren.”

What a love story. I ignored the fact my heart still took this as bait and tried to leap out of my chest. “Thanks?”

“Dammit. That’s not what—you know what? Fine.” Jean rubbed his forehead and shifted his feet before taking a breath. Must have been some kind of limbering up. And then, “Look, when I see you...fuck, it’s just... but I like y...being with yo—no, I mean...”

Jean fidgeted again. “I-I want to be wi...with...um.”

“Are you having a stroke or something?” I asked. He glared at me.

“Fuck it.”

Jean’s hands were on my shoulders again, the touch searing through my clothes. I flinched, but when his calloused fingers slid up to my neck I froze completely. And then as he held me in place, he leaned down until his lips were on mine.

He was kissing me.

I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to. Everything felt like it was on fire despite the fact both of us were soaked to the bone. Maybe kissing was supposed to feel like you were standing on the fucking sun. And I barely realized it happened until he pulled away, surveying my expression. It had been so sensitive and light yet that chaste touch had managed to destroy my sense of thought and feeling and everything. It almost made me glad the kiss hadn’t been more. Almost, if part of me wasn’t, I don’t know, kinda wishing he didn’t stop. 

Ah, he was waiting for me to say something.

“Wha-what the fuck was that?” my voice cracked. Well, at least I said something.

He winced. “Yeah, that’s what I...expected.”

“Wait, what were you expecting?” I demanded. “And expecting from what?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Um, how I feel? Christ, you’re a moron.”

“That wasn’t anything!” I insisted. “You just did...you just...”

My brain may have short-circuited.

“I want you, okay?” Jean murmured quietly. “Being around you makes me happy in some fucked up way.”

When I just stared at him, he let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Eren, I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out but...It scared me today.” He paused as if he wondered whether he should say his next words. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone. I want to spend time with you, I want to listen to you, I want to at least have the chance to have you before I lose you like that...I just want...” He shrugged. “you.” 

Either I was freaking out or I was having an asthma attack or someone was pressing an iron plate against my chest. The way his eyes looked. The small smile he had, so similar to his dumb cocky grin, but still different, like he wasn’t confident at all. Nervous in fact. 

And the way he kept saying that. I thought there was a good chance he was using it specifically, since Jean Kirschtein was pretentious shithead king and would most of the times proceed to never repeat the same word in the same day. But no, he kept saying he wanted this, he wanted that. 

He made sounded like...It wasn’t that he needed me. It wasn’t the way the world should be. And sure as hell wasn’t that it was the easy route. This wasn’t a necessity that he had no choice of.

He was saying he wanted me, just to say it, and expected nothing back. Just because it feels necessary to him to say and fuck him for saying something before I could, I was supposed to do it and get rejected, not the other way around, and god, he wanted me. Jean Kirschtein wanted me and had no other reason to then just that.

I was terrified. But yet...What was that word people used for moments like this?

I was fucking swooning.

But Jean didn’t see that. He started shaking his head and pacing away from me. “Look, sorry, I just had to say—”

Jean slipped on the wet porch midsentence. Luckily, he caught himself before face planting, and he tried shrugging it off awkwardly. “Had to uh, say...that. It’s nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.” I argued, resisting the urge to laugh at him.

“Well, for you, I mean.” Grumbled Jean. “It’s nothing for you.”

What a tool. “How in any way conceivable does that fucking speech not apply to me?”

“No, I mean—” Jean sighed, rubbing his eyes with his palms. “I know that you don’t really care, you don’t have to tell me that. I just had to say it, and I also had to give you your stupid trumpet cause your stupid—”

“That doesn’t mean nothing to me.” I said before I could realize I was interrupting again. Jean’s sentence faltered, and he stared back at me.

“Than what does it mean?” He asked, a sincere note gracing on hopeful in his voice. Suddenly I felt like I was standing in the spot light and had to recite every fact known to man. There were so many implications and less-than-simple meanings to that question I had to force myself to consider before blurting things out to him. It left my head spinning.

“I...don’t know.” I admitted, looking at my front door and glad my mom left us alone. It was like she somehow knew what Jean was coming about.

Sometimes feelings change, or how things had always been finally rise up. 

How things had always been finally came out and punched me right in the throat. 

But I couldn’t get myself to believe that this was real, that something changed in Jean as well. I glanced at the key hanging around his neck, and that gave me enough to stand my ground here. It showed me why I had this heavy weight in my gut that I couldn’t get rid of. It showed me that I couldn’t just fall into Jean’s arms that looked way too inviting. Because I couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right, not for him, even if he was being honest here.

“But do _you_ know what you mean?” I asked, to which Jean gave me a confused look.

“Why wouldn’t I know?” Jean shot back. “What’s your point?”

“You’re confused.” I blurted, and his eyes widened perceptibly. “Jean, I’m—I’m me. You’ve never liked me in the slightest before; why would that suddenly change?”

He smirked, meeting my gaze without turning to me so I could still see his sharp profile. “This isn’t sudden.”

I almost made a choking sound in my throat. This was not fucking real. “That’s a lie.”

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.” Jean scoffed. “You can’t read my mind, only I know how I feel. It took a while to figure it out, but...yeah. And if you...” He turned fully toward me, his face serious. “If you feel the same, I’d rather not have to keep up this fighting shit. I’m sick of it.”

I found myself backing away from him. Was he offering what I thought he was? “But it’s...”

“It’s what, Eren?” Jean edged closer. I shut my eyes and took in a deep breath. My mom said I was good at being honest, so why not.

“I’m not Marco.” I finally said in probably the quietest voice he’d ever heard from me. 

Another crash of thunder came, and I didn’t get a response. I opened my eyes to see Jean staring at me with wide hazel eyes, withstanding a surprising quantity of hurt.

“What..?” murmured Jean. “Why would you...”

“I know you’re still hurting over him.” I said, no longer able to watch his face. “I know you still miss him, and I...I don’t know what you were thinking, but I won’t be able to replace him.”

I had to make him see eye to eye with me.

“I mean, it’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I pressed on. “You thought I was going to go like him cause you’re just seeing the same things repeating in me. But, I’m not him. You’re not going to hurt over me like that, you’re not going to trust me like you did with him, I’m not important like—”

“I’ve never wanted to replace him.” Confirmed Jean in a low voice. My eyes snapped back up to his, those hazel pools focused on me pointedly.

“Marco is Marco.” Jean said. “No one else will ever be him, no one will replace the spot he had in my life.”

I nodded, wishing that wasn’t stinging a bit. And I knew exactly what that sting was. I was jealous, and then I felt horrible for feeling jealous. Jealous over the place I could never  
have with Jean. But then Jean tilted his head at me. “So are you saying I can’t have another person in my life I care about?”

I blinked at him. “No, I—”

“You think I can’t move on without forgetting him or replacing him?” Jean continued harshly, closing the small distance between us. “And worse, you think I wouldn’t care if I lost you? That you’re not important? That I don’t trust you?”

I kept my lips pressed together.

“You’re such an idiot.” Jean sighed, leaning his forehead on mine and making my breath hitch. 

“This is bullshit.” I mumbled, watching a drop of water fall from his hair. “I know you wouldn’t trust me as far as you could throw me. And you’re weak as fuck so—”

“Oh, shut up.” His hands rubbed my shoulders. “I fucking poured my heart out, so you could at least give me a straight answer right now.”

My body tensed where he touched me, my skin getting as sensitive as dry sand castles. “How are you serious right now?” I pressed instead. “You’ve never...acted like this.” 

“Maybe I’m piece of shit that was hiding it the whole time so I could accurately own your ass.” Jean offered, and then he frowned. “Do you still think I’m just rebounding or some shit?”

“No, it’s not that...” I tried to say, but he didn’t believe it, which was reasonable.

“For one thing, why would I rebound to you of all people?” Jean smirked, and I glowered at him and didn’t supply an answer. Especially since yeah, he had a really good point there.

“I understand, Eren. It happened years ago.” Jean explained solemnly. “I know that...I’m a little different, I guess, that things end up being harder for me to endure... but I want to get better, and I’m still working on that on my own. It’s not that I need someone to coddle me or some shit. Maybe I just so happen to actually... want you.”

For some reason I was lingering on hearing him say that he wanted to get better more than the rest of his rambling. I’d never really heard him so straightforwardly talk about that.

Jean straightened and stepped back, narrowing his eyes at me. “Now stop beating around the bush. Just give me a straight answer and I’m done, okay?”

He inhaled slowly, looking terrified yet impatient, “Do you want me, Eren?”

I’d been all prepared for this question only a few minutes ago, damn it, but I shook my head. “I can’t answer that.”

“I don’t care. Tell me.” But by the way he was looking at me, I didn’t doubt he was figuring it out. Whether he believed it or not, he knew the answer.

“I’m going to hit you.” I warned him instead, but he only leaned closer, making me move away in turn.

“Do it, then.” He practically growled. He grabbed my shirt so I couldn’t back away. “As long as you answer me. Do you want me?”

“I’m still wearing your shirt.” I tried leaping subjects.

“Answer me.”

“You’re going to rip it.”

“Answer me.” Jean repeated, his voice getting softer. “Do you hate me, Eren? Or did you like it when I kissed you? Should I do it again?”

He leaned in to do just that but I craned my neck away. “Fuck—yeah, okay?”

Jean let go of the shirt, and despite the widening of his eyes and smile threatening to form on his lips again, I glared at him.

“Oh don’t get all cocky about it.” I griped. “I can’t be...with you, though. If that’s what you want.”

“Why?” He asked with a pout. God damn him. So he did want that. Damn it.

“Because I’m sick of this.” I finally blurted, trying to voice it strong but instead it came out timid. But I tried continuing anyway, “I don’t know what exactly, but things keep changing and I can’t keep up and I’m damn well scared, asshole.”

Jean watched my face for a little bit, calculating and thoughtful, and I really wished he would say something. Finally, He reached behind his head and tugged the necklace he had on over his head.

Then I watched him drop the key and necklace over my head, dangling into place around my neck.

“Jean what the _hell_ are you doing.”

“W-well, I just remembered,” He began, his expression growing weak. “When...Marco, the last time I saw him...He gave me that. I told you that, right?”

I nodded, still absolutely lost.

“It was...” Jean sighed to mask the difficulty of his words. “It was his way of showing I mattered to him, you know? That thing’s important to me.”

My eyes widened. “So why are you giving it to me?”

“Because you matter to me, dill hole.” Jean said, not meeting my eyes and speaking softly. “I’m trusting you to hold on to that, you know? So...yeah. Keep it.”

I couldn’t really fathom this. Almost unconsciously I reached up and stroked the key, still in disbelief he’d just given it to me. Only a couple weeks ago he’d shoved me into a wall for wearing it. This was crazy.

“Do you really want that, Jean?” I asked quietly, and I noticed the rain had begun to lighten up. The storm was passing.

He didn’t answer for a moment, only watching my expression closely. “Pretty damn sure, yeah.”

Jean really was on his way for feeling better. I felt like I was just speaking to someone else completely. But, it wasn’t. This was Jean not trying to hide things, being out in the open and vulnerable, yet not the Jean I’d had to try and comfort the night before. 

“I’m sorry for what I said.” I told him.

“Damn it, I don’t care.” Jean answered. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean for you to leave and everything, I didn’t want to mess things up like I do with everythin—”

“You don’t mess up everything, okay?” I stopped him. He looked like he wanted to disagree, but then he shut his mouth and looked out at the road. For a while we were quiet, just watching the rain lighten up and lightning flash in the distance with delicate rolls of thunder. It was beginning to seem more peaceful. 

“So everything’s good.” Jean’s voice tread through the peace but I didn’t find myself minding. He turned to me. “...Right?”

A lot of things were kind of messed up in my head. I didn’t know what my dad was doing. I didn’t know how often I’d be seeing him. I wasn’t sure how my mom really felt about everything still. I hadn’t even told Armin and Mikasa what’d happened. And Jean? I still couldn’t be sure how he was really doing. I still grasped the key in my hand, unsure if this was what he’d wanted. But I had to trust him. 

Things were going to get better. Jean would get better. I was going to get better. And right now, I didn’t even want to care about what was ahead of us. What mattered was right then and what was in front of me.

“I think so.” I agreed. “Everything will be good.”

“Right.”

“Until school starts.”

Jean snorted. “This year’s gonna be a mess.”

“Agreed.” I said. “Especially with us in the same Anatomy.”

“An absolute nightmare.” Jean nodded. “And don’t get me started on college.”

“Heh, maybe for you, I’ve got mine picked out.”

“Oh really.” Jean raised an eyebrow and grinned. There was something so childish about his smile; it didn't match his sharpened features, but it looked so amazing.

“Damn right. I’m going to be in Phantom Regiment.”

“Drum Corps?” Jean shook his head. “You’re so obsessed with band.”

“So are you, you hypocrite.”

“Well I’m not choosing a school based on the marching band like you.”

“Whatever.” I paused, watching the sun peeking out a bit and making the gold tones in Jean’s hair and eyes stick out like sore thumbs. “So we’re going to be good?”

Jean nodded. “Good enough.”

I rolled my shoulders. “You can come inside, if you want. I think my mom will be a little sympathetic about my grounding since my guest decided running out in a fucking storm was a good idea.”

“Shut up, Jaeger.” Jean warned me quickly, but I shook my head and opened the front door. 

“Just come in, Kirschtein.”

“Wait.” Said Jean suddenly, stepping away from the railing to stand closer to me. “Shut the door.”

“Why?” I asked, doing as he said anyway.

He swallowed, his eyes darting between my eyes and my lips timidly.

“Because I want to do something, and it won’t be a good first impression on your mom.”

I would’ve tried to object, pretty uselessly, or tell him he’d already screwed up the first-impression thing by literally running to my house, but I never had the chance. 

He cupped my face in his hands and kissed the rest of the words I had away. Yeah, never mind everything I’d said before. I wasn’t expecting senior year to suck, and you know what? It wasn’t going to.

Because I was going to be with the one person in the world I couldn’t stand and I was going to love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three cheers for finishing with like 47k or something idk this was the first writing thing i'd ever done, and im proud i finished! i think i've improved a lot since the beginning(im emBARRASSED BY SOME MISTAKES AND PLOT OMG) of this quite experimental story, but whateve im gonna stop there about me and say formally:
> 
> THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING!! You were all so nice and cute i still can't even believe more than one person read this, thank you for literally everything!! This was fun! Thank you thank you!! (idk when the next time i write will be besides my other on-going thing but i assure you it'll be erejean)
> 
> also still on tumblr at serrie-smiles if you care to speak to me there!  
> again, thank you for reading i love all of you!!


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